NRLF 


Jo. 


MERRY'S  BOOK 


TRAf  EL  AND  ADVENTURE 


EDITED    BY 

UNCLE    MERRY 


NEW-YORK: 
H.   DAYTON,    No.    36   HOWARD   STREET. 

INDIANAPOLIS,  IND.  :    ASHER  &  CO. 
1860. 


Unto  Library,  UC  Santa  Cruz  1999 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 
H.    DAYTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


J.  J.  KSED,  PRINTER  &  STERROTYPER, 
43  &  45  Centre  Street. 


CONTENTS 


PAQB 

Adventures  at  Sea, 13 

About  Valleys,  Plains  and  Deserts, 19 

Giotto,  the  Shepherd  Boy  and  Painter, 36 

The  Artist, 43 

Thrilling  Adventure, • 60 

Winnipiseogee  and  the  Legend  of  Chocorua, 66 

A  Fearful  Adventure — Almost, 61 

The  Alpine  Herd  Boy, 66 

A  Conversation  About  Islands, 76 

The  Man  with  the  Iron  Mask, 89 

Travels  about  Africa, 99 

The  Highlands  of  Scotland, 108 

Elsie's  Summer  Adventures, 125 

Adventure  of  a  Dog, 142 

The  Gladiators, 150 

The  Four  Henrys, 154 

Spectre  of  the  Brocken, 159 

King  Roderick  and  the  Enchanted  Cavern, 167 

The  Mountain  Lute, 172 

Dushmanta, 178 

Gypsies, 182 

Little  Four-Toes, 185 

The  Elves  of  the  Forest  Centre, 190 

Adventures  of  Catlin, 195 

The  Panther  Hunt, . .  .198 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The  Mammoth  Cave, 209 

The  Pump, 214 

A  Banker  in  Trouble, 217 

Ruins  of  St.  Bartolph  at  Colchester, 221 

My  Heart's  in  the  Highlands, 225 

The  Highlander's  Song, 226 

The  Palace  of  the  Escurial, 229 

Tomb  of  Edward  II, 230 

Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Hull,.., 233 

The  Serpent  of  Rhodes, 236 


PAOB 

Frontispiece, 2 

Northern  Icebergs, 12 

Arctic  Sea, 15 

The  Light-House, 17 

Valleys  'mid  the  Mountains, 19 

Scene  Among  the  Mountains, 27 

The  Shepherd  Boy  and  Painter, 37 

The  Artist, 42 

AVinnipiseogee, 56 

Residence  of  the  Alpine  Herd  Boy 66 

The  Alps, 70 

Mount  Vesuvius, 79 

A  Volcanic  Island, 81 

Bolabola, 87 

The  Captive  Arriving  at  the  Bastile, 92 

African  Chiefs, 100,101,103 

Lake  Scenery, 109 

High  Mountain, Ill 

The  Highlanders, 112 

Loch  Eatrine, 113 

Loch  Awe, 121 

Isle  of  Staffa, 123 

The  Sailing  Party, 125 

Diamond  Cove, 132 

Parley  with  the  Indians, , 134 

The  Safe  Return,..  .   139 


V  ENGRAVINGS. 

PAOB 

"Jerry," 142 

The  Gladiators, 150 

Spectre  of  the  Brocken, 161 

Mont  Blanc, 172 

The  Lute  Player, 175 

Alpine  Mountains, 177 

The  Lost  Child  and  the  Gypsies, 182 

Dance  of  the  Fairies, 191 

The  Hound, 199 

The  Mammouth  Cave,   208 

The  Pump, 215 

Ruins  at  St.  Bartolph  at  Colchester, 222 

My  Heart's  in  the  Highlands, 225 

Tomb  of  Edward  II., .- 231 

Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Hull, 233 

The  Knight's  Farewell, 238 


PREFACE. 


rpHE  world  we  live  on  is  not  a  very  large  one.  It  is 
-L  very  small  compared  with  the  sun,  or  even  with 
Jupiter.  And  in  the  great  universe  of  God,  it  is  a  mere 
speck.  And  yet  how  small  a  part  of  it  do  any  of  us 
ever  see  1  How  little  do  we  know  about  any  part  of 
the  world,  except  the  little  neighborhood  or  State  where 
we  chance  to  reside.  Some  few  men  have  traveled 
over  a  considerable  portion  of  the  earth.  But  few, 
even  of  those  called  travelers,  have  seen  more  than 
here  and  there  a  spot  of  the  four  great  quarters  of  the 
earth.  Those  cf  us  who  cannot  travel  abroad  are  much 
indebted  to  those  who  can,  for  writing  accounts  of  their 
travels,  of  the  countries  they  have  passed  through,  the 
people  they  have  seen,  the  adventures  they  have  met 
with.  We  have,  in  some  sort,  the  advantage  of  going 
along  with  them,  when  we  read  their  books.  We  see 
with  their  eyes,  and  hear  with  their  ears,  and  so  be 
come  acquainted  with  the  distant  places  and  people 


X  PREFACE. 

genii  and  ghosts,  which  the  imagination  of  man  could 
invent.  These  amuse  for  a  time,  just  while  we  are  read- 
ing them  ;  but  there  is  nothing  left  to  remember  or 
think  of  when  the  reading  is  finished.  The  tales  and 
stories  of  this  volume  are  such  that  you  can  tell  the 
tales  as  often  as  you  please,  without  being  called  a  tell- 
tale ;  and  the  stories  without  being  set  down  as  a  story- 
teller. 

To  enjoy  a  tale  or  a  story,  it  should  be  read  aloud 
among  a  little  circle  of  friends.  It  should  be  read  well, 
so  that  every  one  can  hear  and  understand  it.  The 
great  fault  in  reading  stories,  is,  that  they  are  read  too 
rapidly,  as  if  the  only  aim  were  to  get  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble to  the  end.  This  is  one  reason  why  novel  reading 
is  so  injurious.  It  is  skimmed  over,  and  rushed  through, 
at  railroad  speed,  so  that  nothing  is  thought  of,  as  you 
go  along,  and  nothing  remembered  after  you  get  through, 
but  just  the  outline  of  the  story.  The  moral  is  entirely 
disregarded,  and  the  fine  sentiments  that  may  be  ex- 
pressed by  any  of  the  characters,  or  the  beautiful  sen- 
tences they  may  chance  to  have  uttered,  are  all  lost, 
and  a  careless  habit  of  reading  without  reflection  is 
formed. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  such  reading  is  bad  in  other 
respects.  Very  rapid  reading  can  never  be  good  read- 


PREFACE..  XI 

ing.  It  can  never  give  good  emphasis  and  expression 
to  the  words,  and  can  never  assist  the  reader  to  a  good 
style  of  education.  Many  a  good  speaker  has  been 
spoiled  by  cultivating  a  bad  habit  of  reading.  Such  a 
habit  of  reading  also  greatly  injures  and  weakens  the 
memory.  For,  we  are  so  much  the  creatures  of  habit, 
and  bad  habits  are  so  much  more  early  formed,  and  so 
much  more  difficult  to  shake  off  than  good  ones,  that 
this  same  habit  of  careless,  unreflecting  reading  will  be 
sure  to  follow  us  and  stick  to  us.  We  shall  read  other 
books  hastily  and  carelessly,  and  of  course  shall  not 
remember  what  we  read.  And  the  attention,  not  being 
always  chained  to  what  we  read,  will  learn  to  wander, 
so  that  we  cannot  control  it  when  we  wish  to.  And 
the  memory,  not  duly  exercised  and  stored  with  valu- 
able treasures,  will  become  indolent,  and  weak,  and  un- 
reliable. The  loss  sustained  by  a  young  person,  in 
forming  such  a  careless  habit  of  reading,  cannot  be 
made  up.  No  after  effort  will  recover  it. 

We  trust  our  young  friends  will  all  remember  this, 
and  never  allow  themselves  to  read,  without  close  atten- 
tion and  fixed,  thought,  and  a  sturdy  purpose  to  trea- 
sure up  for  future  use  everything  that  is  of  sufficient 
value  to  make  it  worth  while  to  read  it  at  all. 


of  Crabrf  anfc 


ADVENTURES  AT  SEA. 


HERE  are  some  adventures  in  the 
history  of  every  sailor,  that  are  not 
only  worth  relating,  but  worth  all  the 
•' /jf  trouble,  pain,  and  weariness  they  cost.  Let 
/.•}  me  very  briefly,  touch  on  a  few  of  my  own. 
We  were  in  a  very  high  latitude,  and  on  the  look- 
out for  ice.  One  morning,  at  daybreak,  we  found 
ourselves  in  the  neighborhood  of  several  immense 
icebergs,  and  surrounded,  on  every  side,  with  float- 
ing ice.  It  was  a  scene  of  great  sublimity  and 
beauty.  Here  were  some  forty  or  fifty  floating 
mountains,  or  islands,  with  mountain  cones  shoot- 
ing up  over  all  their  surface,  and  reaching  to  the 
height  of  from  300  to  500  feet.  They  were  of  dif- 


14 


MERRYS      BOOK     OP 


ferent  dimensions,  and  heights,  and  presented  a 
great  variety  of  aspects.  Sometimes  they  would 
glisten  and  blaze  in  the  light  of  the  sun,  like  cliffs 
of  pure  crystal.  Sometimes  one  of  the  huge  cliffs 
would  throw  its  dark  shadow  upon  the  other,  and 
change  the  dazzling  glow  to  a  cold,  bleak,  inhospit- 
able frown.  Occasionally,  as  portions  of  the  sur- 
face melted  in  the  sunbeams,  or  as  the  spray  dash- 
ed up  the  sides  of  the  cliff,  little  rills  would  be  form- 
ed, and  rushing  together  into  one,  dash  down  furi- 
ously to  the  depths  below.  We  came  to  anchor 
under  the  lee  of  one  of  those  ice-mountains,  and 
sent  out  our  boats  to  reconnoitre  for  an  outlet.  The 
men,  well  attired  and  otherwise  prepared  for  the 
work,  disembarked  on  the  ice,  clambered  up  the 
rugged  and  slippery  cliffs,  with  the  aid  of  spears. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  15 


16  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 

harpoons,  and  boat-hooks,  and  seemed  greatly  to 
enjoy  the  sport.  On  one  of  the  cliffs,  they  found  a 
polar  bear  who  had  deserted  his  Arctic  home,  and 
taken  free  passage  for  a  warmer  clime.  They  tried 
to  capture  him,  but  he  was  too  wide  awake  for  that, 
so  they  left  him  to  his  fate,  which  was  probably  a 
grave  in  the  Gulf-stream. 

After  a  long  succession  of  calms  and  adverse 
winds,  which  seemed  to  combine  against  us,  we 
came,  at  length,  in  sight  of  land.  It  was  a  dark, 
lowering  night.  The  storm  was  just  passing  away, 
but  the  waves  wrere  rolling  and  dashing  with  great 
fury.  A  little  after  midnight,  the  man  at  the  bow 
cried  out,  "land-ho  ! — a  light  I"  All  hands  were 
soon  on  deck,  eager  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of 
home,  and  taste  the  fresh  breeze  from  land.  As 
the  ship  rose  and  fell  on  the  billows,  the  distant 
light  was  seen  at  intervals,  and  then  lost  to  view. 
We  were  making  directly  towards  it,  with  the  wind 
in  our  favor.  As  we  advanced,  the  bright  beacon 
before  us  loomed  higher  and  higher  into  the 
sky,  and  shed,  far  away  on  the  crests  of  the  broken 
waves,  a  strong  glare  of  light.  The  clouds  began 
to  scud  and  break,  and  the  moon  from  behind  them 
gave  us  occasional  glimpses  of  the  rock-bound 
coast.  Far  away  to  leeward,  a  ship  was  noticed, 
under  close-reefed  topsails,  laboring  in  the  swollen 
sea,  and  evidently  suffering  from  the  effects  of  the 
storm.  The  dashing  of  the  waves  against  the  crag- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTUBE. 


17 


-  ff Off  TON.  "- 


gy  coast,  kept  up  a  tremendous  roar,  as  of  distant 
thunder.  And  when,  occasionally,  a  wave  heavier 
than  the  rest,  concentrating  the  force  of  a  dozen 
in  one,  dashed  up  against  the  base  of  the  beacon,  it 
would  break,  and  rise  in  spray  and  foam,  almost  to 
its  very  top,  and  then  scatter  on  every  side,  in  a 
deluge  of  baffled  fury.  Over  all  this,  the  steady 
light,  unmoved  from  its  firm  foundations,  continued 
to  shine,  and  to  guide  us  on  our  homeward  way. 
To  those,  who  have  traversed  the  ocean,  or  es- 


18  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

caped  a  tempest,  the  incident  may  seem  trifling. 
But  no  one  who  has  experienced  the  full  force  of 
the  word  "home,"  and  rest,  after  such  a  scene, 
will  fail  to  sympathize  with  the  feeling  that  invests 
the  light-house  near  home  with  a  character  border- 
ing on  the  sacred.  Many  a  sailor  would  write 
"Home,  sweet  home,"  on  its  corner  stone. 


TRAVEL    AND     ADVENTURE.  19 


ABOUT  VALLEYS,  PLAINS,  AND   DESERTS. 


PERHAPS  our  readers  have  nearly  forgotten  the 
conversation  which  Mary,  Henry,  and  Robert 
had  with  their  father  while  on  their  way  to  Staten 
Island.      The  children  were   then   talking   about 
islands.     They  are  very  inquisitive,  and  whenever 


20  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

they  can  find  their  father  at  leisure  they  are  sure 
to  gather  around  him  with  a  thousand  questions 
about  whatever  subject  may  have  engaged  their 
attention.  In  this  way  their  lessons  at  school  and 
and  the  books  that  they  read  at  home,  all  come  up 
for  discussion,  and  they  have  a  great  many  pleasant 
evenings  together.  Mary  says  it  is  a  thousand  times 
pleasanter  than  the  children's  parties  which  she 
sometimes  attends,  and  Robert  says  he  had  rather 
stay  at  home  when  his  father  is  at  leisure  than  to 
go  to  the  Crystal  Palace. 

We  happened  in  last  evening,  just  as  they  had 
got  seated  cozily  together,  and  Mary  was  saying, 

"  Papa,  what  shall  we  talk  about  to-night  ? 
Last  night  it  was  all  about  mountains,  snowy  moun- 
tains, and  burning  mountains — I  don't  believe  we 
can  find  any  other  subject  so  interesting." 

"  To-night,  we  will  talk  about  valleys,"  said  her 
papa. 

Henry  looked  disappointed  on  hearing  this  ;  for 
he  thought  there  could  be  nothing  very  remarka- 
ble about  valleys. 

"  Our  village  lies  in  a  valley,"  said  he,  "  and  it  is 
a  pretty  one,  with  plenty  of  trees  and  a  river  ;  but 
I  do  not  see  anything  particular  in  it.  What  can 
you  be  going  to  tell  us  about  valleys,  papa  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  the  valleys  which 
lie  among  lofty  mountains,  and  you  will  soon  find 
that  they  are  altogether  diiferent  from  our  own 
little  valley." 


TRAVEL    AND     ADVENTURE.  21 

"  They  are  a  great  deal  larger,  I  suppose,"  said 
Mary. 

"  They  are  usually  much  deeper,"  replied  her 
father, "  lying  between  the  opposite  ridges  of  moun- 
tains, and  often  appearing  very  much  like  a  cleft, 
or  mere  splitting  open  of  the  mountains." 

"  Do  you  think  the  mountains  did  ever  split  open, 
papa  ?"  asked  Robert. 

"  In  some  cases  there  is  every  reason  to  believe 
that  they  did.  In  the  two  great  mountain  chains 
of  Europe,  the  Alps  and  the  Pyrenees,  the  sides  of 
some  of  the  valleys  so  exactly  correspond  with  each 
other,  that,  if  it  were  possible  to  force  them  to- 
gether, they  would  fit  into  each  other  quite  closely, 
and  scarcely  a  trace  of  any  opening  would  re- 
main." 

"  I  suppose  there  must  have  been  some  great 
earthquakes,  to  split  open  the  mountains  in  that 
way,"  remarked  Henry. 

"  As  you  learn  more  about  the  structure  of  the 
earth,"  said  his  father,  "  you  will  find  that  many 
wonderful  changes  appear  to  have  passed  upon  it 
since  the  creation.  For  some  purposes  unknown 
to  us,  it  has  pleased  God  at  some  period  to  '  shake 
terribly  the  earth/  so  that  vast  numbers  of  the  low- 
er animals  have  been  buried  in  its  ruins.  The  re- 
mains of  these  are  frequently  dug  out  of  the  earth, 
and  are  called/osstTs.  The  whole  subject  is  full  of 
wonders,  and  is  too  difficult  for  you  at  present ; 


22  MERRY'S    BOOK   OP 

but  when  we  come  to  a  fact  like  this  splitting  asun- 
der of  mighty  mountains,  we  may  well  lift  our 
thoughts  to  that  Being  who  '  looketh  on  the  earth, 
and  it  trembleth  ;  who  toucheth  the  hills,  and  they 
smoke.'  Ps.  civ.  32." 

"  I  should  be  almost  afraid  to  live  among  moun- 
tains," said  Mary.  "  I  dare  say  they  are  very 
beautiful,  but  they  seem  to  be  dangerous  too.  And 
those  mountain  valleys  must  be  gloomy  sort  of 
places." 

"  The  entrances  to  some  of  the  higher  valleys  are 
exceedingly  narrow  and  gloomy,"  said  her  father. 
"  They  are  very  narrow  openings,  called  passes  or 
defies.  They  are  called  passes,  because  they  form 
the  road  by  which  we  can  pass  from  one  valley  to 
another  ;  but  they  are  sometimes  so  long,  narrow, 
and  winding,  that  they  better  deserve  the  name  of 
defile,  which  means  drawn  out  like  a  thread." 

"  How  very  different  the  mountain  valleys  are 
from  ours  !"  remarked  Henry.  We  have  no  split- 
ting open  of  hills,  no  gloomy  passes,  nor  winding 
defiles." 

"  You  may  well  say  they  are  different,"  replied 
his  father.  "  A  mountain  valley  frequently  has  a 
rapid  torrent  rushing  through  it ;  or,  if  it  be  situ- 
ated among  snowy  mountains,  where  the  cold  is 
severe,  it  forms  the  bed  of  a  still  more  remarkable 
stream.  I  mean  the  glacier" 

"  Dear  papa,  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  explain 
what  a  glacier  is,"  cried  Robert. 


TEAYEL    AND     ADVENTURE.  23 

"  You  will,  perhaps,  get  some  idea  of  its  nature 
if  I  call  it  a  river  of  ice,"  said  his  father.  "  Just 
as  the  lower  valleys  frequently  form  the  beds  of 
mountain  streams,  so  these  upper  valleys  become 
the  channels  of  the  mountain  snows,  which  melt 
and  freeze  by  turns  as  they  descend,  and  so  form 
the  glacier." 

"  But  does  the  snow  come  down  from  the  moun- 
tain ?"  asked  Henry.  "  I  thought  that  the  tops  of 
the  loftiest  mountains  were  always  covered  with  it, 
winter  and  summer." 

"  So  they  are,"  replied  his  father.  "  At  a  certain 
height  the  cold  is  so  great  that  the  vapors  of  the 
atmosphere  are  constantly  converted  into  snow  ; 
therefore  it  is  perpetual  snow  above  that  height, 
but  not  below  it.  The  point  at  which  this  change 
takes  place  is  called  the  snow  line.  Below  that  line 
the  snow  soon  gives  way,  and  becomes  a  peculiar 
sort  of  ioe,  filling  the  valleys  and  forming  gla- 
ciers." 

"  But  why  do  you  call  the  glacier  a  river  of  ice, 
papa  ?  A  river  is  always  flowing,  but  ice  cannot 
flow." 

"  If  it  can  not  flow,  it  can  move  ;  and  this  the 
whole  glacier  does  at  a  slow  and  silent  pace." 

"  Can  people  see  it  move  as  they  look  down  into 
the  valley  ?"  asked  Mary. 

"  No,  they  cannot  see  it  move,  nor  can  they  feel 
it  when  they  are  walking  on  the  glacier." 


24  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

Henry  was  astonished  to  find  that  any  one  could 
walk  on  a  glacier  ;  and  he  found  it  difficult  to  un- 
derstand what  sort  of  ice  it  could  be  which  would 
move  onwards  like  a  river,  and  yet  be  firm  enough 
to  allow  of  people  walking  upon  it.  Robert  want- 
ed to  know  how  any  one  could  be  sure  that  the 
glacier  moved  at  all,  if  he  could  neither  see  it  move 
nor  feel  it. 

His  papa  told  him  that  there  was  no  difficulty 
about  that,  for  by  fixing  a  rod  firmly  in  the  ice  of 
the  glacier,  and  then  marking  the  rocky  sides  of 
the  valley  opposite  to  it,  it  was  quite  clear,  that  if 
the  ice  moved  forward  it  would  carry  the  rod  with 
it,  and  so  it  would  be  seen,  by  the  distance  of  the 
rod  from  the  markings,  how  far  it  had  traveled  in 
a  certain  time.  "This  sort  of  observation  was 
made  for  nearly  a  whole  year,"  said  he,  "  and  it  was 
found  that  the  glacier-ice  had  moved  about  four 
hundred  and  eighty-one  feet  in  that  time." 

"  Surely,  papa,  it  must  be  very  dangerous  to  go 
upon  this  moving  ice  ?"  said  Mary. 

"  You  must  ask  Uncle  Charles  about  that,"  re- 
plied her  father.  "  He  has  traversed  the  glaciers 
from  sunrise  to  sunset,  and  he  will  tell  you  of  fa- 
tigues and  dangers,  but  not  from  the  movement 
of  the  glacier,  which  is  quite  imperceptible." 

"  Perhaps  he  was  afraid  the  ice  would  break  and 
let  him  sink  in,"  said  Robert. 

"  And  suppose  he  were  to  fall  in  ?"  said  Mary. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  25 

"  He  would  then  probably  lose  his  life,"  replied 
her  father,  "  for  these  crevasses  are  many  of  them 
of  great  depth." 

Robert  here  requested  to  know  where  the  gla- 
ciers go  to  at  last,  after  moving  along  so  quietly. 

"  They  gradually  descend  into  the  lower  and 
warmer  regions,  where  they  are  greatly  wasted  by 
evaporation  and  melting,  and  where  they  terminate. 
The  melted  ice  of  glaciers  runs  into  the  crevasses, 
or  filters  through  the  mass,  furnishing  the  source 
of  considerable  streams,  which  rush  forth  from  icy 
caverns  beneath  the  glacier.  Some  glaciers  at 
their  termination  are  several  hundred  feet  high, 
and  a  mile  across  :  and  you  may  fancy  that  it  must 
require  considerable  heat  to  make  any  impression 
on  such  a  vast  mass  of  ice." 

"  It  must  indeed,  papa.  And  what  a  splendid 
sight  this  icy  river  must  be  1  If  it  were  all  smooth 
ice  instead  of  rough,  it  would  make  a  capital  skat- 
ing place.  Would  it  not  be  pleasant  to  go  to  the 
top  of  a  glacier  and  skate  down  7 ' 

11  You  must  know  that  a  glacier  is  sometimes 
twenty  miles  long,"  replied  his  father.  "  Therefore, 
supposing  we  could  get  rid  of  the  gaping  crevasses, 
and  could  be  sure  that  no  rocks  would  fall  on  us, 
and  supposing  also  that  the  ice  were  fit  to  skate 
upon,  it  would  still  be  an  arduous  task  to  accom- 
plish." 

Henry  had  new  cause  for  wonder  when  he  heard 


26  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

of  the  great  extent  of  the  glaciers  ;  and  he  began 
to  think  that  they  were  quite  as  surprising  and 
unaccountable  as  the  volcanoes  had  appeared  to 
him. 

"  Before  we  leave  the  mountain  valleys,"  said  his 
father,  "  I  must  mention  the  terrible  devastation 
committed  by  avalanches" 

"  Oh,  I  have  read  about  avalanches,"  said  Mary, 
"in  a  story  of  the  dogs  of  St.  Bernard." 

"  And  so  have  I,"  said  Henry.  "  Avalanches  are 
great  heaps  of  ice  and  snow,  that  fall  down  sudden- 
ly from  the  mountains,  and  sometimes  bury  people 
under  them." 

"  But  why  do  the  people  walk  just  under  the 
mountain  ?"  said  Mary.  "  I  am  sure  if  I  was 
there,  I  would  keep  as  far  away  from  them  as  pos- 
sible." 

"  In  mountainous  countries,"  replied  her  father, 
"  it  is  impossible  to  travel  any  distance  without 
getting  into  dangerous  situations.  Sometimes  the 
only  road  from  one  place  to  another  is  a  mere  ledge 
on  the  side  of  the  mountain." 

"  But  is  there  no  notice  of  its  coming  ?"  said 
Robert. 

"  None  whatever.  In  an  instant,  and  without 
any  warning,  whole  tons  of  ice  and  snow,  that  have 
been  long  accumulated  on  the  upper  slopes  of  the 
mountain,  will  suddenly  give  way,  and  sweeping 
down  with  immense  force,  will  carry  before  them 


TR 


AVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  27 


28  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

not  only  a  few  poor  travelers,  if  such  happen 
to  come  in  their  way,  but  also  entire  forests  and 
villages." 

"  The  avalanche  causes  such  a  tremendous  rush 
of  air,  that  it  acts  as  a  perfect  hurricane,  tearing 
up  trees,  overturning  houses,  and  lifting  masses  of 
rock  from  their  places." 

"  I  am  glad  we  are  not  mountaineers,"  said  Mary. 
"  We  have  storms  here  sometimes,  but  they  are 
nothing  like  those  avalanche  winds." 

"  The  worst  storm  I  ever  remember,"  said  Hen- 
ry, "  was  when  the  old  elm  was  blown  down,  and 
when  nearly  all  the  glass  in  the  greenhouse  was 
broken.  That  was  a  terrible  storm,  but  it  must  be 
like  a  gentle  breeze  compared  with  those  winds 
that  lift  up  rocks  and  overturn  houses." 

"  True,"  replied  his  father  ;  "  and  no  doubt  a 
pious  mountaineer,  feeling  the  dangerous  circum- 
stances in  which  he  is  placed,  must  have  a  most 
simple  and  perfect  trust  in  God,  or  he  could  not  enjoy 
that  peace  and  contentment  which  he  is  often  found 
to  possess.  Travelers  tell  us  that  the  language  of 
the  mountain  guides  is  often  highly  expressive  of 
faith  and  dependence,  and  would  do  honor  to  bet- 
ter educated  Christians." 

"  I  am  very  glad  they  are  good  people,"  said 
Mary,  "  because  God  will  take  care  of  them  in  their 
mountain  homes." 

Henry  now  inquired  whether  there  were  any 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  29 

dangers  in  those  lower  valleys,  which  his  father 
had  described  as  the  beds  of  rapid  rivers  ;  and  he 
was  told  that  the  chief  danger  arises  from  the 
streams  becoming  greatly  increased  by  some  Tin- 
usual  melting  of  the  snows  in  the  upper  valleys. 
"When,  this  is  the  case,"  he  added,  "the  torrent 
becomes  exceedingly  rapid  and  impetuous,  so  that 
in  entering  wider  valleys  it  bursts  from  its  usual 
course,  and  overspreads  the  country  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, causing  ruinous  floods,  to  the  destruction  of 
life  and  property. 

The  children  began  to  ask  whether  their  own 
little  valley  might  not,  at  some  time  or  other,  be 
flooded  by  the  swelling  of  the  river  ;  and  when 
they  found  that  such  an  event  was  not  impossible, 
they  were  puzzled  to  decide  what  sort  of  places  are 
really  safe  to  live  in.  "  Mountains  are  not  very 
safe,"  said  Mary,  "  and  valleys  are  not  very  safe, 
and  what  other  places  are  there  where  we  could  be 
out  of  danger  ?" 

"  0, 1  know  I"  cried  Robert ;  "  the  plain  is  a  safe 
place  to  live  in,  we  should  never  meet  with  glaciers, 
or  avalanches,  or  volcanoes  there." 

"  But  what  is  the  rest  of  the  world  to  do  ?"  said 
Mary. 

"  I  dare  say  there  are  plains  enough  in  all  parts 
of  the  world." 

"  Plains,  my  boy,"  said  his  father,  "  form  the 
greatest  part  of  the  earth's  surface.  Some  plains 


30  MERRY    SHOOK      OF 

are  raised  many  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
others,  on  the  contrary,  are  in  very  low  situations, 
and  appear  to  have  been  once  covered  by  the  ocean. 
The  most  elevated  plains  lie  among  mountains,  and 
are  called  table-lands.  They  are  principally  found 
in  Asia  and  America,  the  plains  of  Europe  being  of 
a  middle  height." 

Henry  said  he  did  not  expect  to  hear  of  plains 
among  mountains,  and  he  could  not  think  why  they 
should  be  called  table-lands. 

"  Simply  because  they  have  a  level  surface  like  a 
table,  and  are  higher  than  the  plains  around  them. 
Properly  speaking,  those  only  are  table-lands  which 
are  raised  abruptly  from  the  surrounding  country, 
to  the  height  of  many  hundred  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea.  The  lofty  plains  of  Quito,  in  South 
America,  are  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the  sea ; 
and  the  table-lands  of  Mexico,  in  North  America, 
are  from  five  to  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea 
level." 

"  What  fine  large  tables  !"  cried  Mary.  "  I  hope 
they  are  well  covered  with  provisions." 

"  Quite  the  reverse,"  said  her  father.  "  Only  a 
few  hardy  kinds  of  grass  grow  on  these  table-lands, 
affording  but  very  poor  pasturage.  Rain  falls  in 
abundance  from  April  to  July,  but  it  does  not  en- 
rich this  barren  soil,  which  consists  of  sand  mixed 
with  chalk." 

"  I  suppose  the  low  plains  are  not  so  badly  off," 
said  Henry. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  31 

s 

"  Some  of  them  are  extremely  rich  and  fertile,  as 
the  plain  of  Lombardy,  which  is  covered  with  vil- 
lages and  towns,  and  has  been  cultivated  with  so 
much  success  that,  when  seen  from  the  Alps,  it 
looks  like  an  immense  garden.  There  are  many 
other  plains  in  Europe,  America,  and  Africa.  Ac- 
cording to  their  situation  and  character  they  are 
known  by  different  names  ;  the  immense  plains  in 
the  central  parts  of  North  America  are  called  $a- 
VGMinos  or  Prames  ;  they  are  generally  very  fertile 
and  are  covered  with  great  quantities  of  tall  rank 
grass.  When  the  grass  becomes  dried  it  sometimes 
takes  fire  accidentally  ;  at  other  times  it  is  set  on 
fire  by  the  Indians.  This  fire  does  little  damage 
where  the  plains  are  elevated  and  the  grass  is  short, 
but  when  the  tall  heavy  grass  of  the  lower  plains 
is  burning,  it  forms  an  awful  sight,  and  sometimes 
occasions  loss  of  life." 

"  How  is  that,  papa  ?"  said  Robert  ;  "cannot  peo- 
ple get  out  of  the  way  of  it  ?" 

"  When  once  a  prairie  is  on  fire,  there  is  no  stop- 
ping the  flames,  and  they  are  carried  onward  ac- 
cording to  the  direction  and  violence  of  the  wind  ; 
therefore,  persons  traveling  in  these  vast  solitudes 
may  be  overtaken  by  such  a  fire,  and  find  the  great- 
est difficulty  in  escaping." 

"  But  if  they  are  on  horseback,  they  can  surely 
ride  faster  than  the  fire  can  travel,"  said  Henry. 

"  They  might  do  so  in  any  other  situation,  but  the 


32  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 

tall  grass,  which  is  often  festooned  with  creeping 
plants,  entangles  their  horses'  feet,  and  makes  it 
necessary  that  they  should  keep  in  the  track  of  the 
deer  or  buffalo,  which  is  often  a  zigzag  and  not  a 
direct  path." 

"  Do  the  deer  and  buffalo  run  away  from  the  fire 
too  ?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Yes.  We  are  told  that  all  animals  flee  before 
this  fiery  tempest,  and  put  forth  their  utmost  pow- 
er to  reach  an  elevated  part  of  the  prairie,  where 
the  grass  is  short  and  the  danger  less  extreme. 
These  hillocks  or  elevations  of  the  prairie  are  call- 
ed prairie-Uuffs.  Such  are  the  plains  of  North 
America.  The  interior  of  South  America  is  also 
remarkable  for  the  extent  of  its  plains." 

"  I  had  no  idea  there  were  so  many  great  plains 
in  the  world,"  said  Henry ;  "I  never  heard  even 
their  names,  for  they  are  not  marked  on  the  map." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  never  heard  of  the  great 
plains  of  Asia,  called  the  Steppes,  and  yet  they  are 
reckoned  to  occupy  a  space  of  about  a  million 
square  miles." 

"  What  is  a  square  mile  ?"  said  Robert. 

"  A  piece  of  ground  which  is  a  mile  long  and  a 
mile  broad." 

"And  why  are  these  great  plains  called  Steppes  ??' 
said  Henry. 

"  Because  they  are  raised  the  one  above  the  other 
like  steps." 


'.TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  33 

"  What  enormous  steps  !"  said  Mary.  "  Fit  to 
match  with  the  tables  on  the  mountains,  and  the 
cups  of  tke  volcanoes." 

"  I  need  not  attempt  to  describe  these  Steppes, 
or  the  other  plains  of  Asia.  You  have  now,  I  hope, 
a  general  notion  of  the  nature  of  such  plains  as  are 
either  cultivated,  or  yield  naturally  some  kind  of 
vegetation  ;  but  I  have  yet  to  speak  of  another 
kind  of  plains,  which  are  extremely  barren,  and 
are  known  as  deserts.  The  most  extensive  desert 
in  the  world  is  the  Sahara  or  Great  Desert  of  Afri- 
ca, which  occupies  a  vast  space  in  the  central  parts 
of  that  continent.  That  desert  is  said  to  be  more 
than  two-thirds  the  size  of  Europe." 

"  That  is  the  place  where  the  camel  is  so  useful," 
said  Mary  ;  "he  is  called  the  ship  of  the  desert,  for 
no  one  can  cross  it  without  him.  He  has  a  sort  of 
padded  foot,  that  is  just  fit  for  walking  on  sands. 
There  is  a  great  deal  about  the  desert  in  my  histo- 
ry of  the  camel." 

"  Deserts  are  very  dreary  kinds  of  plains,  are  they 
not,  papa  ?"  said  Robert ;  "plains  that  would  not 
be  pleasant  to  live  in  !" 

"  They  are  plains  which  it  is  even  dangerous  to 
cross,  much  more  to  live  in,"  replied  his  father. 

"  The  greater  part  of  the  African  desert  we  have 
been  speaking  of  is  covered  with  moving  sands, 
raised  into  ridges  like  waves,  and  continually  shift- 
ing by  the  effect  of  the  wind.  There  is,  therefore, 
no  road,  or  beaten  track,  for  travelers." 


34  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

"  Then,  how  do  they  find  their  way  ?"  said 
Henry. 

"  Chiefly  by  the  pole-star,  which  is  also  the  guide 
of  mariners  at  sea.  Indeed  we  may  call  the  desert 
a  sea  of  sand,  navigated  by  that  valuable  animal, 
the  camel,  which  as  Mary  says,  is  called  the  ship 
of  the  desert." 

"  And  if  they  are  able  to  find  their  way,  are  they 
safe  from  any  other  danger  ?" 

"  By  no  means  ;  they  may  be  overtaken  by  sand- 
storms, in  which  the  simoom  or  hot  wind  sweeps 
over  the  desert  with  great  fury,  and  often  suffo- 
cates or  buries,  in  drifting  sand,  the  unfortunate 
traveler." 

"  What  do  travelers  do  while  the  whirlwind 
lasts  ?"  asked  Henry. 

"  They  generally  halt  in  their  journey,  protect 
their  faces  as  well  as  they  can,  and  kneel  or  lie 
down  near  their  camels." 

"  But  what  do  they  do  for  food  while  passing 
those  dreary  wastes  ?" 

"  They  carry  enough  to  last  them  till  they  reach 
one  of  those  spots  of  which  there  are  a  few  in  the  de- 
sert, where  water  is  to  be  found.  Such  a  spot  is 
called  an  oasis,  and  presents  a  patch  of  verdure,  and 
perhaps  a  few  shrubs  and  flowers,  growing  around 
the  fountain  or  well.  To  the  traveler  who  has 
been  long  on  the  desert  it  is  a  little  paradise,  and 
he  describes  it  in  the  most  enthusiastic  terms  ;  but 
much  of  its  beauty  in  his  eyes  is  derived,  no  doubt, 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  35 

from  the  contrast  with  the  sandy  wastes  he  has 
been  traversing." 

"  It  must  be  very  pleasant  to  them  to  walk  upon 
the  grass  once  more,  after  being  so  long  upon  the 
hot  dry  sand,"  said  Henry  ;  "and  to  have  plenty  of 
spring  water,  instead  of  a  small  allowance  from 
their  bottles." 

"  Sad  is  the  disappointment  which  sometimes 
happens  to  the  travelers  on  arriving  at  the  wells, 
to  find  that  they  are  dried  up.  They  then  have  to 
travel  as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  next  place 
where  they  are  likely  to  find  water  ;  and  the  poor 
distressed  camels  are  as  eager  to  reach  the  spot  as 
their  masters.  At  such  times  a  strange  appearance 
often  cheats  the  eyes  of  those  who  are  unaccustom- 
ed to  the  desert.  At  a  short  distance  from  them 
they  seem  to  perceive  lakes  of  water,  but  on  ap- 
proaching nearer  they  entirely  vanish.  This  ap- 
pearance is  owing  to  the  great  heat  of  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  and  to  an  effect  of  the  sun's  rays  called 
refraction.  The  name  given  to  these  singular  ap- 
pearances is  the  mirage." 

"  How  it  must  vex  them  to  be  deceived  in  that 
way  when  they  are  so  thirsty  !"  said  Mary. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock,  and  the  children  bid 
their  father  good-night,  and  retired  to  rest. 


86 


MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 


THE   SHEPHERD-BOY    AND    PAINTER. 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  37 


JtfOTTO,    THE    SHEPHERD-BOY   AND 
PAINTER. 

A  BOUT  forty  miles  from  Florence,  Italy,  there 
J\.  lived  a  poor  peasant,  named  Bondone.  In 
1276  he  had  a  son  born,  whom  he  called  Giotto. 
The  father  was  an  ignorant  man,  and  knew  little 
else  than  to  labor  in  taking  care  of  his  flocks  of 
sheep. 

There  were  no  public  schools  in  that  country, 
where  children  of  the  poor  man,  as  well  as  those 
of  the  rich,  could  attend  and  obtain  an  education. 
Consequently,  young  Giotto  was  brought  up  in  ig- 
norance. But  he  was  one  of  those  boys  that  learn 
something  from  what  they  see  around  them. 

In  the  country  where  Giotto  lived,  there  were 
no  fences  and  fields  such  as  we  have,  to  keep  the 
sheep  and  cattle  from  straying  ;  hence  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  keep  some  person  with  the  flocks  while 
they  were  feeding  on  the  plains,  to  take  care  of 
them. 

At  the  early  age  of  ten,  Bondone  sent  his  son 
Giotto  out  to  take  care  of  a  flock.  This  pleased 
the  lad,  for  now  the  happy  little  shepherd-boy 
could  roam  about  the  meadow  plain  at  his  will.  But 
most  of  his  time  must  be  spent  near  the  flock,  and 
he  wae  not  long  in  devising  some  means  to  keep 
himself  busy  while  there. 


38  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

His  favorite  amusement  soon  became  that  of 
sketching  in  the  sand,  or  on  broad  flat  stones,  ma- 
king pictures  of  surrounding  objects,  while  lying 
on  the  grass,  in  the  midst  of  his  flock.  His  pencils 
were  a  hard  stick  or  a  sharp  piece  of  stone,  and  his 
chief  models  the  sheep  which  gathered  around  him 
in  various  attitudes. 

The  following  story  is  related  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  genius  of  Giotto  was  discovered,  and 
how  he  became  a  great  painter. 

One  day,  as  the  shepherd-boy  lay  in  the  midst  of 
his  flock,  earnestly  sketching  something  on  a  stone, 
there  came  by  a  traveler.  Struck  with  the  boy's 
deep  attention  to  his  work,  and  the  unconscious 
grace  of  his  attitude,  the  stranger  stopped  and 
went  to  look  at  what  he  was  doing. 

It  was  the  sketch  of  a  sheep,  drawn  with  such 
freedom  and  truth  to  nature,  that  the  traveler  be- 
held it  with  astonishment. 

"  Whose  son  are  you  ?"  said  he,  with  eagerness. 

The  startled  boy  looked  in  the  face  of  his  ques- 
tioner. "  My  father  is  Bondone,  the  laborer,  and 
I  am  his  little  Giotto,  so  please  the  signer,''  said  he. 

"  Well,  then,  little  Giotto,  should  you  like  to 
come  and  live  with  me,  and  learn  how  to  draw,  and 
paint  sheep  like  this,  and  horses,  and  even  men?" 

The  child's  eye  flashed  with  delight. 

"  I  will  go  with  you  any  where  to  learn  that. 
But,"  he  added,  as  a  sudden  reflection  made  him 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  39 

change  color,  "I  must  first  go  and  ask  my  father  ; 
I  can  do  nothing  without  his  leave." 

"  That  is  right,  my  boy,  and  so  we  will  go  to  him 
together,"  said  the  stranger,  who  was  the  painter 
Ciambue. 

Great  was  the  wonder  of  old  Bondone  at  such  a 
sudden  proposal  ;  but  he  perceived  his  son's  wish, 
though  Giotto  was  fearful  of  expressing  it,  and  con- 
sented. He  accompanied  his  boy  to  Florence,  and 
left  his  little  Giotto  under  the  painter's  care. 

His  pupil's  progress  surpassed  Ciambue's  expec- 
tations. In  delineating  nature,  Giotto  soon  went 
beyond  his  master,  to  whom  a  good  deal  of  the  for- 
mality of  the  Greek  art,  which  he  had  been  the 
first  to  cast  aside,  still  clung. 

One  morning  the  artist  came  into  his  studio,  and 
looking  at  a  half-finished  head,  saw  a  fly  resting  on 
the  nose.  Ciambue  tried  to  brush  it  off,  when  he 
discovered  that  it  was  only  painted. 

"  Who  has  done  this  ?"  cried  he,  half  angry,  halt 
delighted. 

Giotto  came  trembling  from  a  corner,  and  con- 
fessed his  fault.  But  he  met  with  praise  instead 
of  reproof  from  his  master,  who  loved  art  too  well 
to  be  indignant  at  his  pupil's  talent,  even  though 
the  frolic  were  directed  against  himself. 

As  Giotto  grew  older,  his  fame  spread  far  and 
wide.  Like  -most  artists  of  those  early  times,  he 
was  an  architect  as  well  as  a  painter.  Pope  Bene- 


40  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

diet  IX.  sent  messengers  to  him  one  day.  They 
entered  the  artist's  studio,  and  informed  him  that 
the  Pope  intended  to  employ  him  in  designing  for 
St.  Peter's  Church  in  Rome,  and  that  he  desired 
Giotto  to  send  him  some  designs  that  he  might 
judge  of  his  capacity. 

Giotto  was  a  pleasant  and  humorous  man,  and, 
taking  a  sheet  of  paper,  he  drew  with  one  stroke 
of  his  pencil  a  perfect  circle.  Then,  handing  it  to 
the  messengers,  he  said  to  them,  "There  is  my  de- 
sign, take  that  to  his  holiness." 

The  messenger  replied,  "  I  ask  for  a  design." 
"Go,  sir,"  said  Giotto  ;  "I  tell  you  his  holiness  asks 
nothing  else  of  me."  And  notwithstanding  all  their 
remonstrance,  he  refused  to  give  any  other. 

Pope  Benedict  was  a  learned  man  ;  he  saw  that 
Giotto  had  given  the  best  instance  of  perfection  in 
his  art,  sent  for  him  to  come  to  Rome,  and  honored 
and  rewarded  him.  From  this  incident,  "  Round 
as  Giotto's  0,"  became  an  Italian  proverb. 

The  talents  of  Giotto  won  him  the  patronage  of 
the  great  of  his  country.  He  visited  in  succession 
Padua,  Verona,  and  Ferrara.  At  the  latter  city  he 
remained  some  time,  painting  for  the  Prince  of 
Este. 

While  there,  Dante  heard  of  Giotto,  and  invited 
him  to  Ravenna.  There,  also,  he  painted  many  of 
his  works,  and  formed  a  strong  friendship  with  the 
great  Dante. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


41 


The  poor  shepherd-boy  was  now  in  the  height 
of  his  fame.  Admitted  into  the  society  of  the  Ita- 
lian nobles,  enjoying  the  friendship  of  the  talented 
men  of  his  age — Dante,  Boccaccio,  and  Petrarch — 
his  was  indeed  an  enviable  position. 

He  was  a  good  man  as  well  as  great,  loved  by  all 
his  friends  ;  and,  as  his  biographer,  Yassari,  says, 
"a  good  Christian  as  well  as  an  excellent  painter." 
He  died  at  Milan  in  the  year  1336,  and  the  city  of 
Florence  erected  a  statue  in  honor  of  this  great 
artist. 


42 


MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 


THE   ARTIST. 


TRAVEL    AND     ADVENTURE.  43 


THE  ARTIST. 

¥E  have  something  to  tell  you  about  Franklin 
Ames,  and  we  presume  you  will  be  glad  to  hear 
it.  It  relates  to  the  state  of  his  hands,  and  the  dis- 
covery which  he  made,  that  mortar  was  not  plaster. 
That  discovery,  together  with  his  sore  hands,  had 
a  dampering  effect  upon  his  zeal  to  become  an  art- 
ist. It  was  harder  work  than  he  thought  it  was. 
The  glory  to  be  gained  seemed  to  recede  to  a 
greater  distance.  His  materials  for  statuary  turn- 
ed into  common  stone  again,  the  idea  of  modeling 
became  decidedly  unpleasant.  The  word  Studio 
did  not  sound  half  as  well  as  it  did  before. 

Still  he  had  within  him  the  elements  of  perse- 
verance. He  did  not  like  to  give  up  a  thing  when 
he  had  once  undertaken  it — an  excellent  trait  of 
character,  which  I  hope  the  reader  will  labor  to 
acquire,  for  it  is  one  of  the  best  aids  to  success  in 
life. 

I  would  not  have  the  reader  understand  the  above 
remark  after  the  manner  in  which  a  boy  in  a  board- 
ing-school understands  it — or  rather  pretended  to 
understand  it.  The  teacher  was  expatiating  on 
the  subject  of  perseverance.  It  is  true  that,  in  the 
course  of  his  remarks,  he  spoke  of  the  importance 
of  choosing  good  ends,  but  the  last  sentence  he  ut- 
tered was,  "  be  slow  in  forming  a  resolution  to  do 


44  MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 

a  thing,  but  having  formed  it,  persevere  at  all 
hazards." 

A  young  lad  sat  at  his  desk  and  took  notes  of  the 
advice,  and  wrote  out  in  full  the  last  sentence.  The 
teacher  was  rather  pleased  to  have  so  much  atten- 
tion paid  to  his  remarks. 

In  the  teacher's  garden  there  was  a  very  fine 
plum  tree,  small  but  laden  with  excellent  fruit. 
Young  John  watched  it  carefully,  and  as  soon  as 
the  plums  fairly  began  to  turn  purple,  he  diminish- 
ed the  quantity.  This  was  done  at  night.  In  the 
morning  the  teacher  saw  that  some  one  had  been 
robbing  his  plum  tree.  The  wall  was  so  high,  that 
there  was  little  probability  that  the  robbery  was 
committed  by  any  person  from  without.  He  there- 
fore mentioned  the  fact  of  the  robbery  to  his  boys, 
and  appealed  to  their  sense  of  justice  and  of  honor 
to  prevent  a  recurrence  of  the  act.  *"^ 

But  it  was  soon  repeated.  In  fact,  about  as  fast 
as  the  fruit  turned  purple  it  was  stolen.  At  length 
the  teacher  determined  to  watch  during  the  whole 
night.  By  that  means  he  caught  young  John  in  the 
felonious  act. 

The  next  morning,  he  called  him  to  account  for 
his  conduct  before  the  school. 

"How  came  you  to  do  it?"  said  he  to  the  delin- 
quent. 

"  I  did  it  in  accordance  with  your  directions, 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  45 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  insulting  boy  ?" 

"  You  told  us  to  be  slow  in  forming  a  resolution 
to  do  a  thing,  but  having  formed  it,  to  persevere 
at  all  hazards !  I  wrote  down  your  words  at  the 
time,  sir,"  taking  his  notes  from  his  desk.  "  I  was 
a  long  time  forming  the  resolution.  I  began  to 
think  about  it  when  the  plum  tree  was  in  blossom, 
I  kept  thinking  about  it  all  the  while  the  plums 
were  growing,  and  never  formed  the  resolution  to 
take  them  until  they  began  to  turn.  Having  began 
to  take  them,  I  thought  I  must  persevere,  though 
I  knew  I  should  be  caught." 

"  Why  so  ?" 

"Because  you  said  we  must  persevere  at  all 
hazards." 

"  I  shall  pursue  the  same  course  with  respect  to 
your  punishment ;  you  may  go  to  your  chamber  ; 
when  I  have  formed  my  resolution  to  punish  you, 
I  shall  send  for  you,  and  you  may  rely  upon  it,  I 
shall  persevere  in  it  at  all  hazards." 

He  went  to  his  room  and  spent  a  very  long  day 
there.  At  sunset  he  was  sent  for  to  the  school- 
room, and  received  a  very  persevering  application 
of  a  rod  to  his  back. 

But  I  sat  down  to  tell  you  something  more  about 
Franklin  Ames.  While  he  was  in  the  state  of  mind 
described  above,  his  favorite  uncle  came  to  see  him. 
Uncle  Henry  was  not  as  busy  a  man  as  his  brother. 
He  had  time  to  attend  to  his  children,  and  a  fine 


46  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

flock  of  them  he  had.  He  and  his  boys  walked  and 
talked,  and  sometimes  played  together  as  if  they 
had  been  companions.  The  boys  were  never  more 
happy  than  when  they  were  with  their  father,  and 
everybody  said  they  will  be  just  like  their  father, 
and  the  tone  in  which  those  words  were  uttered, 
indicated,  that  to  be  like  their  father  was  a  very 
praiseworthy  and  desirable  thing. 

Uncle  Henry  felt  a  great  interest  in  Franklin, 
and  when  he  visited  the  family,  he  always  talked 
more  with  him  than  with  any  other  member  of 
the  family.  He  had  a  way  of  drawing  out  of  him 
all  his  plans  and  desires.  Franklin  was  never 
afraid  to  tell  him  anything,  he  felt  sure  of  his  sym- 
pathy, sure  that  he  would  not  laugh  at  him  even  it 
he  thought  his  plans  were  foolish.  He  had  not 
been  long  in  the  house  before  he  had  the  whole 
history  of  the  studio. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  plan  of  being  an  art- 
ist, uncle  ?"  said  Franklin. 

"  Well,  I  have  not  had  time  to  think  much  about 
it,"  said  Uncle  Henry  ;  "  I  will  think  about  it.  It 
is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  refined  artist.  I  should 
like  to  see  you  one." 

"  Then  I  will  be  one." 

"  You  must  take  more  time  to  consider  and  de- 
cide. And  then  there  are  various  kinds  of  artists, 
and  I  don't  know  in  what  line  you  would  be  likely 
to  succeed  the  best." 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  47 

"  I  wish  to  be  a  sculptor." 

"  You  wish  to  make  perfect  forms  of  men  in  mar- 
ble ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  There  is  a  fine  art  much  superior  to  that  of 
sculpture." 

"  What  is  it  ?     Painting  ?" 

"  No,  it  is  the  art  of  making  a  strong,  beautiful 
and  perfect  mind.  That  is  the  art  which  I  should 
like  to  have  you  learn  first ;  great  artists  in  this 
line  take  rank  before  all  others." 

"  I  never  heard  of  any  such." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  one  George  Washington  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  I  have." 

"  What  is  his  reputation  ?" 

"  It  is  a  little  ahead  of  that  of  any  man  who  has 
lived." 

"  And  what  is  it  owing  to  ?" 

"  His  actions." 

"And  what  did  his  actions  spring  from  ?" 

"  From  his  principles." 

"  And  where  did  he  get  his  principles  ?" 

Franklin  could  not  answer  the  last  question  as 
promptly  as  he  had  answered  those  which  prece- 
ded it.  He  was  in  doubt  whether  to  say  they  were 
born  with  him,  or  whether  he  had  formed  them 
himself,  and  after  a  little  farther  reflection,  he 
thought  the  truth  lay  between  the  two. 

"  Washington's  actions,"  said  Uncle  Henry,  "were 


48  MERRY S     BOOK     OF 

simply  the  exponents  of  his  mind.  If  he  had  not 
had  a  powerful,  wise,  just,  and  noble  mind,  could 
he  have  performed  the  actions  which  have  given 
him  his  renown  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Certainly  not.  Washington  prepared  himself 
for  his  sublime  career  by  the  most  careful  culture 
of  the  mind,  and  it  was  owing  to  the  fact  'that  he 
became  a  most  consummate  artist  in  respect  to  the 
culture  of  mind,  and  the  formation  of  character,  that 
he  was  enabled  to  perform  his  matchless  deeds  in 
the  field  and  in  the  cabinet." 

"  Washington  did  not  bestow  much  care  on  the 
cultivation  of  his  mind.  He  did  not  go  to  school 
much,  and  he  never  went  near  a  college." 

"  I  must  be  allowed  to  differ  from  you,  my  boy, 
on  that  point.  Washington  did  bestow  the  utmost 
care  on  the  cultivation  of  his  mind." 

"  He  never  studied  Latin  or  Greek,  and  he  could 
not  have  studied  many  books  ;  for  there  were  not 
many  books  within  his  reach." 

"  It  is  true  that  he  had  not  the  advantages  of  in- 
struction which  are  now  within  the  reach  of  almost 
every  boy  in  the  country,  but  nevertheless  he  suc- 
ceeded in  forming  the  most  perfect  human  mind 
of  which  we  have  any  knowledge." 

"  He  did  not  create  his  own  talents." 

"  No,  his  talents — the  elements  of  his  character 
— were  given  him  by  Providence,  but  the  forma- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  49 

tion  of  that  character,  which  has  been  and  still  is 
the  admiration  of  the  world,  was  his  own  work. 
He  did  not  let  his  mind  run  to  waste.  He  did  not 
let  the  form  of  his  character  be  determined  by  cir- 
cumstances. He  did  not  throw  the  responsibility 
of  his  improvement  on  his  teachers.  He  pursued 
a  course  similar  to  that  of  the  sculptor  who  wishes 
to  produce  a  most  perfect  specimen  of  art.  The 
sculptor  first  forms  a  conception , of  the  thing  he 
wishes  to  make,  the  end  which  he  desires  to  attain, 
and  then  bends  all  his  energies  with  untiring  in- 
dustry to  the  realization  of  that  conception,  the  at- 
tainment of  that  end.  So  with  Washington.  He 
formed  the  conception  of  a  pure,  lofty,  symmetrical 
character,  and  took  unwearied  pains  to  realize  it, 
and  he  succeeded." 

"  Do  you  think  any  one  else  could  do  the  same 
thing  ?" 

"  I  do  not  suppose  any  one  could  acquire  his  re- 
putation ;  for  the  reputation  of  men  depends  in 
part  upon  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are 
placed.  I  will  say  this  :  if  any  one  will  take  as 
much  pains  in  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  and  the 
formation  of  his  character  as  Washington  took,  he 
will  have  a  noble  character  and  will  stand  high  in 
the  estimation  of  his  fellow  men.  Let  it  be  your 
first  object  of  ambition  to  become  an  artist  in  the 
sense  I  have  now  explained  the  term." 


50  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

THRILLING    ADVENTURE, 


ATHER  will  have  done  the  great  chim- 
ney to-night,  won't  he,  mother  ?  said 
little  Tommy   Howard,  as  he  stood 
waiting  for  his  father's  breakfast,  which  he 
carried  to  him  at  his  work  every  morning. 

"  He  said  he  hoped  that  all  the  scaffolding 
would  be  down  to-night,"  answered  the  mother, 
"  and  that'll  be  a  fine  night,  for  I  never  like  the 
ending  of  those  great  chimneys  ;  it  is  so  risky  for 
father  to  be  last  up." 

"  Oh,  then,  but  I'll  go  and  see  him,  and  help 
'em  to  give  a  shout  before  he  comes  down,"  said 
Tom. 

"And  then,"  continued  the  mother,  "if  all  goes 
on  right,  we  are  to  have  a  frolic  to-morrow,  and  go 
into  the  country,  and  take  our  dinner,  and  spend 
all  the  day  long  in  the  woods." 

"  Hurrah  1"  cried  Tom,  as  he  ran  off  to  his 
father's  place  of  work,  with  a  can  of  milk  in  one 
hand,  and  some  bread  in  the  other.  His  mother 
stood  at  the  door,  watching  him,  as  he  went  mer- 
rily whistling  down  the  street,  and  she  thought  oi 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  51 

the  dear  father  he  was  going  to,  and  the  dangerous 
work  he  was  engaged  in  ;  and  then  her  heart 
sought  its  sure  refuge,  and  she  prayed  to  God  to 
protect  and  bless  her  treasures. 

Tom,  with  a  light  heart,  pursued  his  way  to  his 
father,  and  leaving  him  his  breakfast,  went  to  his 
own  work,  which  was  at  some  distance.  In  the 
evening,  on  his  way  home,  he  went  round  to  see 
how  his  father  was  getting  along. 

James  Howard,  the  father,  and  a  number  of  other 
workmen,  had  been  building  one  of  those  lofty 
chimneys  which,  in  manufacturing  towns,  almost 
supply  the  place  of  other  architectural  beauty. 
The  chimney  was  of  the  highest  and  most  tapering 
that  had  ever  been  erected,  and  as  Tom  shaded  his 
eyes  from  the  slanting  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and 
looked  in  search  of  his  father,  his  heart  sank  with- 
in him  at  the  appalling  sight.  The  scaffold  was 
almost  down,  the  men  at  the  bottom  were  remov- 
ing the  beams  and  poles.  Tom's  father  stood  alone 
at  the  top. 

He  then  looked  around  to  see  that  all  was  right, 
and  then  waving  his  hat  in  the  air,  the  men  below 
answered  him  with  a  long,  loud  cheer,  little  Tom 
shouting  as  loud  as  any  of  them.  As  their  voices 
died  away,  however,  they  heard  a  different  sound, 
a  cry  of  horror  and  alarm  from  above.  The  men 
looked  around,  and  coiled  upon  the  ground  lay  the 
rope,  which,  before  the  scaffolding  was  removed, 


52  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 

should  have  been  fastened  to  the  chimney,  for  Tom's 
father  to  come  down  by.  The  scaffolding  had  been 
taken  down  without  remembering  to  take  the  rope 
up.  There  was  a  dead  silence.  They  all  knew  it 
was  impossible  to  throw  the  rope  up  high  enough 
to  reach  the  top  of  the  chimney,  or  even  if  possible, 
it  would  hardly  be  safe.  They  stood  in  silent  dis- 
may, unable  to  give  any  help,  or  think  of  any  means 
of  safety. 

And  Tom's  father,  he  walked  round  and  round 
the  little  circle,  the  dizzy  height  seeming  more  and 
more  fearful,  and  the  solid  earth  further  and  further 
from  him.  In  the  sudden  panic  he  lost  his  presence 
of  mind,  his  senses  failed  him.  He  shut  his  eyes  ; 
he  felt  as  if  the  next  moment  he  must  be  dashed  to 
pieces  on  the  ground  below. 

The  day  passed  as  industriously  as  usual  with 
Tom's  mother  at  home.  She  was  always  busily  em- 
ployed for  her  husband  or  children  in  some  way  or 
other,  and  to-day  she  had  been  harder  at  work  than 
usual  getting  ready  for  the  holiday  to-morrow. 
She  had  just  finished  her  arrangements,  and  her 
thoughts  were  silently  thanking  God  for  the  hap- 
py home,  and  for  all  those  blessings,  when  Tom 
ran  in. 

His  face  was  white  as  ashes,  and  he  could  hardly 
get  the  words  out,  "  Mother  !  mother  !  he  cannot 
get  down  I" 

"  Who  lad— thy  father  ?"  asked  the  mother. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  53 

"  They  have  forgotten  to  leave  him  the  rope," 
answered  Tom,  still  scarcely  able  to  speak.  His 
mother  started  up,  horror  struck,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  as  if  paralyzed,  and  then  pressing  her 
hands  over  her  face,  as  if  to  shut  out  the  terrible 
picture,  and  breathing  a  prayer  to  God  for  help, 
she  rushed  out  of  the  house. 

When  she  reached  the  place  where  her  husband 
was  at  work,  a  crowd  gathered  around  the  foot  of 
the  chimney,  and  stood  quite  helpless,  gazing  up 
with  faces  full  of  sorrow. 

"  He  says  he'll  throw  himself  down." 

"  Thee  munna  do  that,  lad,"  cried  the  wife,  with 
a  clear,  hopeful  voice  ;  "  thee  munna  do  that — wait 
a  bit.  Take  off  the  stocking,  lad,  and  unravel  it, 
and  let  down  the  thread  with  a  bit  of  mortar.  Dost' 
thou  hear  me,  Jem  ?" 

The  man  made  a  sign  of  assent,  for  it  seemed  as 
if  he  could  not  speak — and  taking  off  his  stockings 
unraveled  the  worsted  yarn,  row  after  row.  The 
people  stood  around  in  breathless  silence  and  sus- 
pense, wondering  what  Tom's  mother  could  be 
thinking  of,  and  why  she  sent  him  away  in  such 
haste  for  the  carpenter's  ball  of  twine. 

"  Let  down  one  end  of  the  thread  with  a  bit  of 
stone,  and  keep  fast  hold  of  the  other,"  cried  she 
to  her  husband.  The  little  thread  came  waving 
down  the  tall  chimney,  blown  hither  and  thither  by 
the  wind,  but  it  reached  the  outstretched  hands 


54  MERBY'SBOOKOF 

that  were  waiting  it.  Tom  held  the  ball  of  twine, 
whilst  his  mother  tied  one  end  of  it  to  the  thread. 

"  Now,  pull  it  slowly,"  cried  she  to  her  husband, 
and  she  gradually  unwound  the  string  until  it 
reached  her  husband.  "  Now,  hold  the  string  fast, 
and  pull,"  cried  she,  and  the  string  grew  heavy 
and  hard  to  pull,  for  Tom  and  his  mother  had  fast- 
ened a  thick  rope  to  it.  They  watched  it  grad- 
ually and  slowly  uncoiling  from  the  ground,  and 
the  string  was  drawn  higher. 

There  was  but  one  coil  left.  It  had  reached  the 
top.  "  Thank  God  P  exclaimed  the  wife.  She  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands  in  silent  prayer,  and  rejoiced. 
The  iron  to  which  it  should  be  fastened  was  there 
all  right — but  would  her  husband  be  able  to  make 
use  of  it  ?  Would  not  the  terror  of  the  past  have 
so  unnerved  him  as  to  prevent  him  from  taking  the 
necessary  measures  for  safety  ?  She  did  not  know 
the  magical  influence  which  her  few  words  had  ex- 
ercised over  him.  She  did  not  know  the  strength 
that  the  sound  of  her  voice,  so  calm  and  steadfast, 
had  filled  him — as  if  the  little  thread  that  carried 
to  him  the  hope  of  life  once  more,  had  conveyed  to 
him  some  portion  of  that  faith  in  God,  which 
nothing  ever  destroyed  or  shook  in  her  pure  heart. 
She  did  not  know  that  as  she  waited  there,  the 
words  came  over  him,  "  Why  art  thou  cast  down. 
0,  my  soul,  why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  ? 
hope  thou  in  God."  She  lifted  her  heart  to  God 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  55 

for  hope  and  strength,  but  could  do  nothing  more 
for  her  husband,  and  her  heart  turned  to  God  and 
rested  on  him  as  on  a  rock. 

There  was  a  great  shout.  "  He's  safe,  mother, 
he's  safe  I1'  cried  Tom. 

"  Thou  hast  saved  my  life,  my  Mary,"  said  her 
husband,  folding  her  in  his  arms. 

"  But  what  ails  you  ?  you  seem  more  sorry  than 
glad  about  it."  But  Mary  could  not  speak,  and  if 
the  strong  arm  of  her  husband  had  not  held  her  up 
she  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground — the  sudden 
joy  after  such  fear  had  overcome  her. 

"  Tom,  let  thy  mother  lean  on  thy  shoulder," 
said  his  father,  "  and  we  will  take  her  home."  And 
in  their  happy  home  they  poured  forth  thanks  to 
God  for  his  great  goodness,  and  their  happy  life 
together  felt  dearer  and  holier  for  the  peril  it  had 
been  in,  and  the  nearness  of  the  danger  had 
brought  them  unto  God.  And  the  holiday  next 
day — was  it  not  indeed  a  thanksgiving  day  ? 


56 


MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 


WINNIPISEOGEE   AND   THE   LEGEND    OF 
CHOCORUA. 


HOW  many  boys  and  girls  in  reciting  a  Geo- 
graphy lesson  upon  the  state  of  New  Hamp- 
shire have  hesitated  and  stammered  in  vain  attempts 
to  pronounce  the  long  word  Winnipiseogee,  which 
is  said  to  be  "  a  beautiful  body  of  water,  surround- 
ed by  a  country  abounding  in  romantic  scenery." 

True,  it  is  a  hard  word,  and  truer  still  is  the  de- 
scription following.  A  few  days  ago  a  class  of  lit- 
tle girls  were  reciting  to  me  this  very  sentence  ; 
and  when  I  told  them  that  the  strange  formidable 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  57 

looking  word  should  be  pronounced  "  "Win-ne-pe- 
saw-ge,"  they  opened  their  eyes  very  wide  ;  and  as 
I  went  on  to  speak  of  the  enchanting  beauty  of  that 
clear  lake  embosomed  in  the  hills,  with  its  hundreds 
of  green  islands  scattered  over  it  as  if  a  shower  ot 
emeralds  had  fallen  there  ;  of  the  gray  old  moun- 
tain sentinels  which  rear  their  tall  heads  so  thickly 
around,  keeping  guard  as  it  were,  over  a  scene  too 
beautiful  for  mortal  eye  to  rest  on,  their  eyes  opened 
wider  and  sparkled  brighter  ;  and  then  when  I  told 
them  that  the  name  by  which  the  rude  Indians 
christened  this  lonely  lake  means  "  the  smile  of  the 
Great  Spirit,"  their  interested  countenances  were 
lighted  up  as  if  they  had  caught  some  of  its  glory. 

And  I  assure  you,  children,  that  often  as  I  have 
glided  over  these  clear  waters  in  the  fairy-like  boat 
which  all  the  summer  long  dances  in  and  out  among 
the  green  islands,  and  watched  the  varied  charms 
of  the  scenery  round,  I  have  felt  that  the  "  smile  " 
still  lingered  there  in  undiminished  radiance,  and 
sweetly  has  it  stolen  into  my  heart  and  left  such 
images  of  beauty  as  will  never  fade. 

This  lake  is  thirty  miles  in  length,  but  our  im- 
pressions of  its  size  when  passing  over  it  are  very 
incorrect,  so  thickly  is  it  studded  with  islands. 
These  are  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  in  number ; 
and  an  old  tradition  says  that  on  each  return  of  the 
leap-year  one  more  starts  up  from  its  hiding-place, 
and  with  its  close  sinks  back  again  beneath  the 


58  MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 

bright  waters.  For  the  truth  of  this,  the  frolicking 
elves  that  haunt  these  fairy-like  abodes  may  answer, 
for  I  cannot.  Some  of  these  islands  are  ver}7  fertile, 
and  contain  several  acres  of  land  with  fine  farms 
and  picturesque  little  farm-houses.  Others  are 
wild  and  thickly  wooded,  so  that  even  the  bald- 
eagle  finds  a  safe  retreat  among  the  branches  of  the 
tall  pines  which  cast  their  shadows  in  the  limpid 
water  and  meet  those  of  other  islets  near. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  mountains  which  surround 
the  lake.  Some  of  them  are  of  considerable  height. 
There  is  Whiteface  Mountain,  a  rugged  and  bare 
looking  eminence,  taking  its  name  from  the  appear- 
ance which  is  given  it  by  a  kind  of  white  rock  scat- 
tered over  its  side.  In  another  direction  Gunstock 
Mountains,  and  nearer  Copplecrown,from  the  sum- 
mit of  which  a  fine  view  is  obtained,  and  Red  Hill, 
still  more  celebrated,  with  its  three  gracefully  cur- 
ving peaks,  the  highest  being  an  elevation  of  2,500 
feet.  Parties  on  horseback  are  daily  seen  during 
the  summer  months  winding  up  the  narrow  path 
which  leads  to  it,  and  as  they  pass  along,  each  open- 
ing in  the  trees  reveals  some  new  charm  in  the 
scene  below. 

They  never  forget  to  call  on  "  Mother  Cook,"  a 
strange,  gipsy-like  old  woman,  who  resides  in  a  lit- 
tle hovel  near  the  pathway,  and  will  always  enter- 
tain her  guests  with  goat's  milk  and  blueberries, 
and  tell  their  fortunes  too.  This  art  she  must  have 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  59 

learned  from  the  mountain  spirits  with  whom  she 
has  long  been  familiar,  for  forty  years  have  passed 
since  she  descended  from  her  elevated  position  as 
"The  Old  Woman  of  the  Mountain." 

But  the  view  from  the  top  is  most  surpassingly 
beautiful.  Spread  out  beneath  your  eye  is  the  en- 
tire lake,  with  its  less  noted  and  smaller,  but  still 
charming  sister  unworthily  called  "  Squam."  The 
Indians  must  have  expended  their  taste  upon  Win- 
nipiseogee.  You  are  encircled  by  a  glorious  am- 
phitheatre of  hills,  and  in  the  distance  the  eye 
catches  the  faint  outlines  of  the  White  Mountains. 
The  Indians  who  formerly  inhabited  this  region 
called  them  the  "  Crystal  Hills,"  and  supposed  their 
snow-capped  summits  to  be  covered  with  glittering 
silver.  Here  too  they  thought  the  Great  Spirit 
resided  in  mountain  majesty,  while  the  beauty  ot 
his  "  smile"  fell  softly  down  and  rested  upon  their 
own  sparkling  waters.  To  them  that  distant  shin- 
ing land  was  holy  ground,  and  no  Indian  dared  ap- 
proach it. 

It  has  been  said  by  travelers  that  no  scenery  in 
Scotland  or  Switzerland,  which  hundreds  cross  the 
ocean  to  gaze  upon,  surpasses  in  beauty  this  lonely 
panorama  which  the  eye  feasts  upon  from  Red  Hill. 

Northwest  of  this  is  a  singularly  shaped  moun- 
tain, whose  barren  sides  and  sharp  peak  distinguish 
it  from  all  others.  This  is  called  Chocorua  Peak, 


60  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

« 

and  with  it  is  connected  an  old  Indian  legend,  which 
I  will  tell  you. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  American  colonies,  when 
the  white  man  first  wandered  up  to  the  hills  of 
New  Hampshire,  there  dwelt  near  this  mountain  a 
lone  settler  with  his  family.  Near  him  lived  a 
friendly  Indian  called  "  Chbcorua,"  who  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  granting  him  many  favors.  One 
day  when  the  white  man  returned  from  hunting, 
he  found  his  house  destroyed  and  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren murdered.  His  suspicion  fell  upon  the  kind 
old  Indian,  and  in  the  fury  of  his  rage  and  anguish 
he  accused  him  of  the  horrid  deed,  and  then  to-re- 
venge  himself  burned  his  hut  to  the  ground. 

Poor  Chocorua,  stung  to  madness  by  the  cruel 
distrust  of  the  white  man,  fled  from  the  smoking 
ruins  of  his  home,  climbed  to  the  highest  peak  of 
the  mountain  near,  and  lifting  his  hands  wildly  in 
the  air,  pronounced  a  curse  upon  the  white  man, 
his  children  and  his  lands,  his  corn  and  his  cattle 
forever,  and  then  with  an  agonizing  yell,  threw 
himself  down  the  precipice. 

From  that  time,  it  is  said,  the  peak  where  the 
awful  curse  was  uttered  has  been  called  Chocorua 
peak,  and  the  vegetation  round  has  never  flourish- 
ed, while  the  soil  remains  barren  and  uncultivated 
to  the  present  day. 


TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE.      61 


A  FEARFUL  ADVENTURE— ALMOST. 


ALABRIA,  a  province  in  Italy,  has 
been  celebrated,  in  times  past,  as  our 
readers  may  know,  on  account  of  being 
the  residence  of  fierce  parties  of  brigands, 
*  who  have  without  mercy  waylaid  and  plun- 
dered many  an  unwary  traveler.  The  follow- 
ing letter  of  Paul  Louis  Courier,  a  French  author 
of  some  note,  detailing  one  of  his  adventures  in 
Calabria,  many  years  ago,  reminds  us  in  some  of  its 
features,  of  an  adventure  of  Audubon,  the  great 
American  ornithologist,  in  one  of  his  hunting  ex- 
cursions at  the  West  j  but  the  real  ground  of  alarm 
in  the  two  cases  was  quite  different. 

"  I  was  one  day  traveling  in  Calabria.  It  is  a 
country  of  wicked  people,  who,  I  believe,  have  no 
great  liking  to  anybody,  and  are  particularly  ill- 
disposed  towards  theJEtench.  To  tell  you  why 
would  be  a  long  affair.  It  is  enough  that  they  hate 
us  to  death,  and  that  the  unhappy  being  who  should 
chance  to  fall  into  their  hands  would  not  pass  his 
time  in  the  most  agreeable  manner.  I  had  for  my 
companion  a  fine  young  fellow.  I  do  not  say  this 


62  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 

to  interest  you — but  because  it  is  truth.  In  these 
mountains  the  roads  are  precipices,  and  our  horses 
got  on  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  My  comrade 
going  first,  a  track,  which  appeared  to  him  more 
practicable  and  shorter  than  the  regular  path,  led 
us  astray.  It  was  my  fault.  Ought  I  to  have 
trusted  to  a  head  of  twenty  years  ?  We  sought 
our  way  out  of  the  woods  while  it  was  yet  light  ; 
but  the  more  we  looked  for  the  path  the  farther 
we  were  off  it.  It  was  a  very  black  night,  when 
we  came  close  upon  a  very  black  house.  We  went 
in,  and  not  without  suspicion.  But  what  was  to 
be  done  ?  There  we  found  a  whole  family  of  char- 
coal burners  at  table.  At  the  first  word  they  in- 
vited us  to  join  them.  My  young  man  did  not  stop 
for  much  ceremony.  In  a  minute  or  two  we  were 
eating  and  drinking  in  right  earnest — he  at  least : 
for  my  own  part  I  could  not  help  glancing  about 
at  the  place  and  the  people.  Our  hosts,  indeed, 
looked  like  charcoal  burners  ;  but  the  house  !  you 
would  have  taken  it  for  an  arsenal.  There  was  no- 
thing to  be  seen  but  muskets,  pistols,  sabres,  knives, 
cutlasses.  Everything  displeased  me,  and  I  saw 
that  I  was  in  no  favor  myself.  My  comrade,  on  the 
contrary,  was  soon  one  of  the  family.  He  laughed, 
he  chatted  with  them  ;  and  with  an  imprudence 
which  I  ought  to  have  prevented,  he  at  once  said 
where  we  came  from,  where  we  were  going,  that 
we  were  Frenchmen.  Think  of  our  situation.  Here 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  63 

we  were  amongst  our  mortal  enemies,  alone,  be- 
nighted, far  from  all  human  aid.  That  nothing 
might  be  omitted  that  could  tend  to  destroy  us,  he 
must  play  the  rich  man  forsooth,  promising  these 
folks  to  pa}7  them  well  for  hospitality  ;  and  then  he 
must  prate  about  his  portmanteau,  earnestly  be- 
seeching them  to  take  great  care  of  it,  and  put  it 
at  the  head  of  his  bed,  for  he  wanted  no  other  pillow. 
Ah,  youth,  youth,  how  you  are  to  be  pitied  !  Cou- 
sin, they  might  have  thought  we  carried  the  dia- 
monds of  the  crown  :  the  treasure  in  his  portman- 
teau which  gave  him  such  anxiety  consisted  of  the 
letters  of  his  mistress. 

"  Supper  ended,  they  left  us.  Our  hosts  slept 
below  ;  we  on  the  story  where  we  had  been  eating. 
On  a  sort  of  platform  raised  seven  or  eight  feet, 
where  we  were  to  mount  by  a  ladder,  was  the  bed 
that  awaited  us — a  nest  into  which  we  had  to  in- 
troduce ourselves,  by  jumping  over  barrels  filled 
with  provisions  for  all  the  year.  My  comrade 
seized  upon  the  bed  above,  and  was  soon  fast 
asleep,  with  his  head  upon  the  precious  portmanteau. 
I  was  determined  to  keep  awake,  so  I  made  a  good 
fire,  and  sat  myself  down.  The  night  was  almost 
passed  over  tranquilly  enough,  and  I  was  begin- 
ning to  be  comfortable,  when,  just  at  the  time 
when  it  appeared  to  me  that  day  was  about  to 
break,  I  heard  our  host  and  his  wife  talking  and 
disputing  below  me  ;  and  putting  my  ear  to  the 


64  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

chimney  which  communicated  with  the  lower  room, 
I  perfectly  distinguished  these  exact  words  of  the 
husband  :  '  Well,  well,  let  us  see ;  must  we  kill  them 
both  ?'  To  which  the  wife  replied,  '  Yes,'— and  I 
heard  no  more. 

"  How  shall  I  tell  you  the  rest  ?  I  could  scarce- 
ly breathe  ;  my  whole  body  was  as  cold  as  marble  ; 
to  have  seen  me,  you  could  not  have  told  whether 
I  was  dead  or  alive.  Heavens  !  when  I  yet  think 
upon  it !  We  two  were  almost  without  arms  ; — 
against  us  were  twelve  or  fifteen  who  had  plenty 
of  weapons.  And  then  my  comrade  dead  of  sleep 
and  fatigue  !  To  call  him  up,  to  make  a  noise,  was 
more  than  I  dared  ; — to  escape  alone  was  an  im- 
possibility. The  window  was  not  very  high,  but 
under  it  were  two  great  dogs  howling  like  wolves. 
Imagine  if  you  can,  the  distress  I  was  in.  At  the 
end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  seemed  an  age, 
I  heard  some  one  on  the  staircase,  and  through  the 
chink  of  the  door  I  saw  the  old  man,  with  a  lamp 
in  one  hand,  and  one  of  his  great  knives  in  the 
other.  He  mounted,  his  wife  after  him  ;  I  was  be- 
hind the  door.  He  opened  it ;  but  before  he  came 
in  he  put  down  the  lamp,  which  his  wife  took  up, 
and  coming  in  with  his  feet  naked,  she  being  be- 
hind him  said,  with  a  smothered  voice,  hiding  the 
light  partially  with  her  fingers,  '  Gently,  go  gently.1 
When  he  reached  the  ladder  he  mounted,  his  knife 
between  his  teeth ;  and  going  to  the  head  of  the 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  65 

bed  where  that  poor  young  man  lay,  with  his  throat 
uncovered,  and  with  one  hand  he  took  his  knife, 

and  with  the  other ah,  my  cousin he  seized 

a  ham  which  hung  down  from  the  roof,  cut  a  slice, 
and  retired  as  he  had  come  in.  The  door  is  re- 
shut,  the  light  vanishes,  and  I  am  left  alone  to  my 
reflections. 

"  When  the  day  appeared,  all  the  family  with  a 
great  noise  came  to  rouse  us,  as  we  had  desired. 
They  brought  us  plenty  to  eat,  they  served  us  a 
very  proper  breakfast — a  capital  breakfast,  I  as- 
sure you.  Two  capons  formed  part  of  it,  of  which, 
said  the  hostess,  you  must  eat  one,  and  carry  away 
the  other.  When  I  saw  the  capons  I  at  once  com- 
prehended the  meaning  of  those  terrible  words — 
4  Must  we  Ml  them  loth  ?' "  • 


66 


MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 


THE  ALPINE  HERD  BOY. 


IN  Switzerland,  among  the  Alps,  in  a  low-eaved 
cot,  lived  Peter,  the  herd-boy  of  Monsieur  Vat- 
temal,  a  rich  landholder  in  a  neighboring  valley. 
This  gentleman  had  but  one  child,  a  son,  born  a 
week  later  than  Peter.  As  his  mother  died  soon 
after,  the  child  was  given  to  the  herd-boy's  mother 
to  be  nursed.  Hippolyte  was  delicate,  Peter  hardy. 
It  was  a  pretty  sight  when  the  latter  led  his  foster 
brother  by  the  hand  up  the  side  of  the  mountain. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  67 

For  five  years  they  lived  in  the  same  cot,  partook 
of  the  same  fare,  and  little  suspected  the  difference 
of  their  lot.  M.  VattSmal  brought  a  lovely  bride 
to  the  valley,  and  one  pleasant  eve,  his  char-a-banc 
stopped  at  the  cot,  while  Peter's  mother  hastened, 
with  fast  falling  tears,  to  meet  the  parents  of  her 
foster  child,  knowing  too  well  that  they  were  come 
to  take  him  from  her.  Hippolyte  left  the  cot  that 
evening.  His  father  was  gratified  to  see  the  good 
effect  of  his  mountain  life.  Although  more  delicate 
and  graceful  than  Peter,  his  constitution  was  sound 
and  his  motions  vigorous.  The  children  now  dwelt 
a  mile  apart,  but  often  met.  When  Peter  was 
eight  years  old,  M.  Yattemal  gave  him  lessons  with 
his  son.  At  the  age  of  twelve  Hippolyte  was  sent 
to  Geneva  to  be  fitted  for  college,  while  to  Peter 
was  given  the  situation  of  herd-boy.  The  sterling 
principles  of  truth  and  honesty,  early  grafted  in 
his  character,  made  him  quite  worthy  of  the  place 
he  filled. 

Most  of  the  Swiss  peasants  knit  while  tending 
their  flocks — Peter  studied.  Although  M.  VattS- 
mal  thought  that  four  years'  schooling  was  enough 
for  the  herd-boy,  Peter  did  not.  He  resolved  at 
fourteen  to  open  an  evening-school  in  his  mother's 
kitchen.  Many  of  the  mountaineers  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  learn  to  read.  They  deemed  Peter  a  for- 
tunate and  learned  lad.  His  mother  was  astonish- 
ed, but  would  not  refuse  him.  As  soon  as  the  long 


68  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 

evenings  commenced,  he  opened  his  school.  It 
was  successful.  He  not  only  had  the  pleasure  ot 
teaching  many  to  read,  but  found  their  remunera- 
tion, when  collected,  quite  ample,  although  each 
gave  but  a  small  sum.  For  three  years  he  was  a 
faithful  herd-boy,  but  at  the  opening  of  the  fourth 
year  informed  M.  Yattemal  that  he  was  going  to 
Geneva,  as  a  traveler,  who  met  and  traveled  with 
him  on  the  mountains,  had  given  him  the  address 
of  the  principal  of  a  large  academy  there,  who 
would,  perhaps,  instruct  him  in  the  higher  branches 
of  learning  as  payment  for  Peter's  services.  M. 
Yattemal  listened  with  much  interest. 

"  So,  my  lad,  you  despise  the  lot  of  a  herd-boy." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Peter,  "  I  despise  no  lot,  but  as- 
pire to  one  higher.  In  this  book  I  now  hold,  I 
have  learned  how  the  poorest  and  humblest  citizens 
of  America  attain,  by  patient  industry,  to  a  sphere 
far  higher  than  that  they  were  born  in." 

"  Ah,  my  young  man  !  pray  who  lent  you  this 
wonderful  book  ?" 

"  An  American  traveler  met  me  on  the  mountains. 
I  was  reading  the  life  of  Fenelon — a  present  from 
your  son — when  he  spoke  to  me.  Before  we  part- 
ed he  told  me  of  Monsieur  Carday's  establishment, 
and  urged  me  to  go  to  him.  He  called  upon  me 
twice  after  our  interview,  and  gave  me  this  book, 
with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  M.  Carday." 

M.  YattSmal  took  the  volume,  and  read  the  name 
of  the  giver  on  the  fly-leaf. 


TRAVEL    AND      ADVENTURE.  69 

"  One  of  the  greatest  statesmen  of  America — of 
the  world  1" 

"  Sir!"  cried  Peter,  surprised  at  his  employer's 
emotion. 

"  Peter,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  the  friend  who 
gave  you  this  book  has  one  of  the  greatest  intel- 
lects that  ever  made  a  nation  glorious.  Obey  your 
monitor  ;  go  to  M.  Carday.  I  will  take  you  part  ot 
the  way,  and  assist  you  with  my  purse." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Peter,  with  a  blush  of  gratitude 
suffusing  his  face,  "  I  have  means.  May  I  ask  you 
to  use  the  sum  destined  for  me,  to  aid  our  moun- 
taineers ?'' 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

"  The  Chamois  hunter,  Rogernoir,  is  quite  dis- 
abled by  a  recent  fall " 

"  I  understand  you,  my  noble  lad.  I  will  employ 
the  fund  destined  for  you,  in  behalf  of  his  family." 

Peter  withdrew  with  firm  tread.  As  he  walked 
to  the  gate  a  monarch  might  envy  the  majestic  step 
of  the  high-souled  herd-boy.  His  mother  met  him. 
The  few  articles  they  owned  were  packed  snugly 
in  one  corner.  As  Peter's  eyes  rested  wondering- 
ly  on  this  arrangement,  his  mother  whispered — 

"  I  shall  not  part  with  you,  my  son." 

"  Dearest  mother  !"  he  could  say  so  more. 

"  I  have  a  distant  relative,  a  pastry  cook,  in  Ge- 
neva. I  shall  find  employment,  and  be  near  my 
son." 

In  two  dayg  they  departed.     M.  Yattemal  es- 


70  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

corted  them  more  than  half  way.     As  he  parted 

from  them  he  slipped  a  purse  into  the  mother's 

hand,  and  whispered — 

"  From  Hippolyte,  to  his  foster  mother." 

The  pastry  cook  was   quite  pleased  to  see  his 

cousin.      His  wife,  with  the  help  of  Hippolyte's 


THE   ALPS. 

purse,  soon  arrayed  the  peasant  in  suitable  apparel. 
The  herd-boy's  mother  was  comely  and  well-bred, 
so  that  her  city  friends  were  quite  pleased  with  her. 
They  lived  very  near  M.  Carday.  That  gentleman 
was  happy  to  oblige  his  American  friend.  Peter 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  71 

was  to  teach  the  lesser  boys,  and  in  return  receive 
instructions  from  the  best  masters.  His  time  was 
almost  constantly  occupied,  save  the  few  hours 
spent  with  his  mother.  Sometimes  they  rambled 
on  the  shores  of  Lake  Geneva,  or  took  an  ice  in  one 
of  the  public  gardens.  Peter  wrote  a  good  hand. 
He  earned  some  francs  by  copying,  at  odd  inter- 
vals, law  papers  for  a  friend  of  M.  Carday.  It  was 
one  fine  Sabbath  eve  as  they  walked  by  the  lake, 
that  Peter  informed  his  mother  of  his  determina- 
tion to  go  to  America,  and  become  a  lawyer.  The 
chance  of  success  in  Geneva,  without  patronage, 
was  so  small  that  Peter  resolved  not  to  hope  for  it. 
As  before,  his  mother's  only  answer  was  a  decision 
to  go  with  him.  M.  Vattemal  was  consulted  ;  he 
gave  his  approval  with  a  sum  sufficient  to  defray 
their  expenses.  In  a  month  after  they  left  Geneva. 
M.  Vattemal  received  a  letter  written  by  Peter 
immediately  after  their  arrival  in  Boston.  The 
rich  landholder  was  sitting  with  his  family  on  the 
balcony  when  the  letter  was  brought  in.  Hippo- 
lyte,  now  an  exquisite  of  the  first  water,  was  smok- 
ing. The  father  looked  up  at  his  son  as  he  finished 
reading  the  letter. 

Alas,  thought  he,  what  would  I  not  give  if  my 
light-headed  son  could  write  such  a  manly  letter  as 
this.  But  Hippylite  will  be  a  dandy  until  he  is  a 
father  ;  then  he  will  become  a  nobody. 

In  Boston  Peter  presented  his  few  letters.     He 


72  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

hired  three  rooms  in  a  pleasant  location,  and  soon 
had  several  pupils  to  whom  he  taught  German  and 
French.  His  mother  found  ample  employment. — 
She  was  a  skillful  basket-maker.  Her  toys  met 
rapid  sale,  as  they  were  quite  unique  in  Boston. 
She  also  netted  well.  She  followed  the  advice  of 
some  female  friends,  and  exchanged  a  room  for  a 
small  shop  in  the  building.  This  was  soon  filled 
with  articles  furnished  by  her  indefatigable  friends. 
Her  son  assisted  her  to  arrange  the  goods  taste- 
fully ;  her  nets,  toys,  and  baskets,  were  soon  added 
to  by  an  accomplishment  learned  of  her  cousin,  the 
pastry  cook.  These  articles  of  cookery  became 
famous.  As  Peter  went  up  step  by  step  to  his 
goal,  his  mother  with  a  bound  attained  her's,  for 
her  shop  was  enlarged  and  her  success  permanent. 
She  assisted  her  son  with  funds,  and  at  last,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  read  the  letter  in  which  he  inform- 
ed M.  Vattemal  that  he  was  now  a  lawyer.  That 
gentleman  was  just  concluding  a  marriage  treaty 
for  Hippolyte  when  he  received  the  news. 

So,  thought  he,  my  son  is  an  empty-headed  rou6, 
while  the  herd-boy  is  a  lawyer — a  man  of  intellect, 
with  a  noble  soul.  "  Nature  makes  no  distinctions." 

Mr.  W ,  the  traveler  amid  the  Alps,  had  been 

a  true  friend  to  Peter.  By  his  advice  the  mother 
and  son  moved  westward.  They  had  been  frugal 
and  industrious.  This  was  the  only  magic  that  had 
given  them  sufficient  means  to  go  to  Michigan  and 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  73 

purchase  a  house  on  the  shore  of  one  of  the  lakes, 
not  far  from  a  large  town.  The  dwelling  was  a 
plain,  two-story  house  with  three  acres  of  rich  land 
surrounding  it.  In  the  town  Peter  hired  an  office  ; 
as  he  understood  conveyancing  well  he  soon  found 
business.  His  letters  introduced  him  to  good  so- 
ciety ;  his  polished  manners  enabled  him  to  keep 
his  place  in  it.  His  mother  supplied  two  toy  shops 
with  products  of  Swiss  origin,  and  with  those  de- 
licious articles  she  learned  to  make  at  Geneva. 
Her  income  was  quite  large,  as  some  of  the  towns 
adjacent  heard  of  her  skill,  and  sent  weekly  to  the 
Lake-house,  as  it  was  called,  for  her  products.  Yet 
few  persons,  save  the  shopkeepers,  knew  that  she 
made  the  confections  so  famous  with  old  and  young. 
Peter  was  very  successful,  because  skillful  and 
upright.  He  married  soon  after  the  death  of  Hip- 
polyte,  who  was  drowned  while  bathing  in  the  Arve. 
M.  VattSmal  had  now  quite  a  family.  The  letters 
of  Peter  aroused  his  ambition  to  settle  his  children 
well.  Every  avenue  to  business  in  Switzerland 
was  so  thronged  as  to  discourage  him  from  attempt- 
ing to  place  them  advantageously.  Hippolyte's 
wife  and  child  had  been  laid  in  the  family  vault, 
before  the  rapid  waters  of  the  Arve  flung  his  life- 
less corpse  on  the  pebbly  shore.  M.  YattSmal 
astonished  Peter  by  suddenly  appearing  at  the 
Lake-house.  The  beauty  of  the  environs  and  cheap- 
ness of  land  pleased  M.  Vatt&mal.  He  concluded 


74  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

to  purchase  a  farm  adjoining  Peter's  estate,  and 
soon,  had  the  satisfaction  of  installing  his  family  in 
their  new  home.  Peter's  wife  and  mother  were  true 
friends  to  Madame  Yattfimal,  who  was  long  in  be- 
coming acquainted  with  the  language  and  manners 
of  her  adopted  country.  M.  Yattemal  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  his  sons  suitably  embarked 
in  business.  One  of  them  became  in  time  Peter's 
partner,  and  to  the  wise  training  of  Peter  owed 
much  of  his  sagacity  in  his  profession. 

Time  brought  many  changes  to  the  environs  of 
the  Lake-house.  Peter  remained  the  same,  save 
the  usual  marks  of  age.  Simple  in  his  habits,  even 
in  his  temperament,  and  pious  in  his  feelings,  he 
became  a  centre  of  attraction  to  old  and  young. 
The  plain  stone  dwelling  betrayed  none  of  that 
love  of  change  too  frequently  seen  in  this  country. 
It  was  unaltered  since  he  first  purchased  it.  The 
Lake-house  was  long  noted  for  its  hospitality. 
Music  was  not  neglected  ;  Peter  played  well  on  the 
organ  and  flageolet.  His  wife  was  a  good  musician. 
She  delighted  to  gather  the  young  people  on  the 
lawn,  and  treat  them  to  fine  strawberries.  As 
Peter  was  known  to  be  wealthy,  his  children  too 
often  felt  the  homage  paid  to  riches.  When  he 
perceived  any  tokens  of  pride  in  them  he  would 
say — 

"Do  you  see  that  picture  over  the  chimney-piece  ? 
The  boy  represented  there,  as  sitting  on  a .  rock 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


75 


with  sheep  near  him,  his  hat  torn  by  rough  moun- 
tain winds,  his  feet  bare,  and  his  clothes  patched, 
is  now  your  father.  As  you  see  him  there,  so  he 
looked  when  herd-boy  for  M.  VattSmal." 


76 


MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 


A  CONVERSATION  ABOUT  ISLANDS. 


"'« 


NE  fine  morning  in  August, 
:Henry,  Mary,  and  Robert,  start, 
ed  with  their  father,  for  a  sail 
down  the  Bay  of  New  York,  and 
a  visit  at  their  cousin's  on  Staten 
Island. 

As  the  steamer  moved  quietly 
over  the  water,  they  had  a  beau- 
tiful view  of  the  harbor  and  of  the  scenery  in  pass- 
ing down  the  Bay,  and  they  were  all  in  the  best  of 
spirits. 

Now,  the  city  is  fast  receding  from  their  view, 
its  tall  steeples  are  fading  in  the  distance,  and  the 
wilderness  of  its  masts  seem  like  a  dense  forest  of 
pines. 

On  the  left  is  the  beautiful  Long  Island  shore, 
with  its  pretty  cottages  and  highly  cultivated 
fields — Greenwood,  the  city  of  the  dead,  and  Fort 
Hamilton,  commanding  from  its  elevation,  one  of 
the  finest  water  views  that  the  world  affords. 

On  the  left,  and  far  astern,  is  the  dim  outline  of 
the  highlands,  and  nearer,  is  the  New  Jersey  shore, 
scolloped  with  bays,  and  inlets,  and  nearer  still  is 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  77 

Staten  Island,  about  which  the  children  are  making 
a  thousand  inquiries,  until  at  length  the  conversa- 
tion turns  on  the  subject  of  islands  in  general. 

"  Which  is  the  largest  island  on  the  globe  ?"  said 
Robert. 

"  Australia,  or  New  Holland,  which  is  large 
enough  to  be  a  continent,  being  more  than  twenty- 
four  times  as  large  as  the  island  of  Great  Britain." 

"  It  is  very  large,"  said  Henry,  "  but  it  does  not 
join  any  other  land,  and  I  suppose  that  is  the  rea- 
son it  is  not  called  a  continent ;  which  you  told  us 
means  '  holding  together.7  ? 

"  There  are  a  great  many  islands,"  said  Mary, 
"between  Australia  and  the  continent  of  Asia.  I 
suppose  if  they  were  joined  they  would  be  a  con- 
tinent." 

"  That  large  cluster  of  islands  is  called  the  Indian 
Archipelago,"  said  her  father.  "  It  is  one  of  the 
hottest  regions  in  the  world,  lying  immediately 
under  the  equator.  It  is  also  a  region  of  volca- 
noes. In  one  of  the  islands  called  Sumbawa,  an 
eruption  occurred  in  1815,  which  was  of  a  very  as- 
tonishing kind,  on  account  of  the  distance  to  which 
the  noise  and  the  trembling  of  the  earth  extended, 
and  also  on  account  of  the  fury  of  the  eruption, 
which  destroyed  thousands  of  individuals." 

"  The  trembling  could  not  reach  beyond  the 
island  itself,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Henry,  "  because 
there  must  be  water  all  around  it." 


78  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

"  A  group  of  islands,  like  that  archipelago,  no 
doubt  forms  part  of  a  chain  of  mountains  stretch- 
ing out  from  the  continent,  the  upper  portions  ot 
which  only  are  visible  above  the  waters.  Thus  an 
earthquake  or  volcanic  eruption  at  one  part  of  the 
chain  would  be  felt  in  another  part.  This  was  the 
case  among  these  islands  ;  the  earthquakes  at 
Sumbawa  being  felt  at  the  distance  of  a  thousand 
miles  in  every  direction,  while  the  explosions  were 
distinctl}7  heard  in  the  island  of  Sumatra,  which 
cannot  be  less  than  a  thousand  miles  from  the  spot. 
The  showers  of  volcanic  ashes  were  so  prodigious, 
that  at  Java,  three  hundred  miles  off,  total  dark- 
ness was  produced  at  mid-day." 

The  children  thought  that  the  bed  of  the  ocean 
must  be  wonderfully  deep,  to  allow  of  mountain- 
chains  in  it  whose  tops  only  should  rise  above  the 
waters,  and  Henry  asked  whether  such  islands  are 
barren  places,  such  as  the  tops  of  mountains  gen- 
erally are. 

"  Some  of  the  smaller  islands  of  the  ocean  are 
mere  rocks,"  said  his  father,  "  and  have  evidently 
been  thrown  up  by  the  eruptions  of  submarine  vol- 
canoes. But  the  others,  though  hilly,  have  also 
rich  valleys  and  plains,  and  are  in  many  cases  ex- 
tremely fertile." 

Mary  had  been  looking  at  the  map  while  her  pa- 
pa was  speaking  of  the  islands  of  the  Indian  Archi- 
pelago, and  she  said  she  should  be  sorry  to  live  in 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


79 


hot  countries,  for  the  volcanoes  seemed  all  to  be 
there. 

'•  You  forget,"  said  Henry,  "  that  papa  told  us 
there  were  several  in  Kamtschatka,  which  is  a  ter- 
ribly cold  place." 


MOUNT     VESUVIUS. 

"  There  are  also  numerous  volcanoes,'7  said  his 
father,  "  in  the  island  of  the  Northern  Ocean  called 
Iceland  ;  so  that  coldness  of  climate  does  not  form 


80  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

a  protection  from  these  terrible  visitations.  The 
whole  of  that  island  appears  to  have  been  formed 
by  volcanic  agency." 

"  After  all,"  said  Henry,  "  I  think  the  volcanoes 
are  of  some  use  in  the  world,  if  they  send  tip 
islands  for  people  to  live  on.  I  did  not  know  be- 
fore that  they  were  useful." 

"  People  had  much  better  not  live  in  such  dan- 
gerous places,"  said  Mary.  "  If  such  an  island 
were  to  rise  up  in  our  seas  I  would  not  even  set  my 
foot  on  it,  much  less  live  on  it." 

"  But  some  of  the  volcanoes  go  out  and  do  not 
burn  any  longer,"  said  Robert.  "  The  island  must 
be  safe  enough  then,  and  it  would  be  foolish  to  be 
afraid  of  it  because  it  was  once  a  volcano." 

"  If  you  were  to  see  some  of  the  beautiful  islands 
of  the  South  Seas,"  said  her  father,  "  you  would 
change  your  opinion,  as  to  their  not  being  fit  to  live 
in.  Here  is  a  picture  of  one  of  them,  and  you  see 
that  the  mountains  have  been  thrown  into  pictu- 
resque forms,  which  are  evidently  produced  by 
volcanoes,  although  there  is  no  sign  of  any  recent 
eruption.  The  slopes  and  valleys  of  many  of  these 
islands  are  very  beautiful,  and  the  soil  on  them  is 
very  fertile.  But  these  islands  are  not  all  of  vol- 
canic origin,  thrown  up  by  violent  eruptions  from 
the  bowels  of  the  earth  ;  a  geological  examination 
of  them  shows  conclusively  that  many  of  them  are 
of  coral  formation — that  thoir  formation  is  nothing 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  81 

else  than  immense  coral  rocks,  rising  up  from  the 
bed  of  the  ocean,  and  covered  by  a  gradual  process 
with  soil,  and  thus  fitted  up  as  a  beautiful  dwelling 
place  for  man.  These  coral  formations  are  con- 
stantly going  on  beneath  the  surface  of  the  water. 
In  many  places  there  are  now  immense  coral  reefs 
rising  up,  so  as  to  be  dangerous  when  they  lie  in 
the  pathway  of  ships.  Ere  long  they  will  rise 
above  the  surface  of  the  water.  All  these  coral 
mountains  beneath  the  sea  and  rising  above  the  sea, 


A  VOLCANIC    ISLAND. 


BO  beautiful  are  the  work  of  a  people,  that  like 
bees  are  industriously  plying  their  art  and  produc- 
ing the  most  astonishing  results." 


82  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

"  Rocks  and  islands  of  coral  1"  said  Mary.  "  How 
wonderful !  how  beautiful !  Is  it  red  or  white  coral  ? 
Do,  papa,  tell  us  more  about  them.  You  spoke  as 
if  some  one  was  always  at  work  building  them. 
Who  is  it?  and  where  does  he  get  the  coral  from  ? 
If  I  knew  him  I  would  ask  him  for  some  nice  large 
pieces  to  put  in  our  cabinet." 

"  The  architects  of  the  coral  rocks  are  not  per- 
sons with  whom  you  can  hold  any  communication," 
said  her  papa,  with  a  smile  :  "  and  yet,  such  won- 
derful skill  and  power  has  God  bestowed  upon 
them,  that  they  are  able  not  only  to  raise  a  coral 
rock  in  the  middle  of  the  sea,  but  also  to  make  the 
coral  itself  of  which  the  work  is  composed." 

The  children  looked  at  their  father  in  amaze- 
ment ;  and  Henry  said  it  was  the  strangest  thing 
he  had  ever  heard  of.  "  If  people  were  going  to 
build  a  palace  for  the  queen,"  said  he,  "  the  archi- 
tects would  have  first  to  get  the  stone  and  the 
marble  somewhere  ;  for  they  could  not  make  them  ; 
and  how  is  it  possible  that  these  other  builders 
should  be  able  to  make  the  stones  themselves  for 
the  coral  islands,  and  such  beautiful  ones  too,  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  sea  ?'7 

"  I  wish  they  would  come  and  work  on  land," 
said  Mary,  "  we  might  then  have  coral  palaces." 

Robert  saw  that  his  papa  was  smiling,  and  it  sud- 
denly came  into  his  head,  that  the  architects  of  the 
coral  rocks  might  not  be  men  after  all. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  83 

"  Oh,  papa,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  think  you  mean  a 
real  architect,  but  some  creature  that  builds  the 
rock,  as  bees  do  their  cells,  and  perhaps  collects  the 
coral  somewhere  as  bees  do  their  honey-." 

"  You  are  partly  right  and  partly  wrong,"  said 
his  father,  "  coral  rocks  are  produced  by  vast  mul- 
titudes of  sea  animals,  commonly  called  coral  in- 
sects. They  are  not,  however,  insects,  but  very 
small  soft-bodied  animals,  resembling  little  bags  of 
jelly.  At  the  end  of  this  bag  are  six  or  eight  little 
arms  or  feelers.  Coral  itself  is  not  collected  by 
these  little  animals  as  you  fancy,  but  is  produced  in 
some  wonderful  manner  from  their  own  bodies. 
They  form  stone  cells  beneath  the  waves  for  their 
own  abode  ;  and  owing  to  the  countless  millions  em- 
ployed upon  the  task,  they  gradually  raise  a  vast 
structure  of  coral,  all  united  in  one  mass,  and  form- 
ing at  length  an  island  fitted  for  man." 

"  I  wonder  the  rough  waves  of  the  sea  do  not 
wash  away  the  stones  and  the  builders,  too,  and  so 
put  an  end  to  their  work,"  said  Henry. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  astonishing  facts  in  nature/' 
said  his  father,  "  that  these  little,  soft,  jelly-like 
creatures,  are  able  to  work  on  in  the  midst  of  the 
ocean,  and  to  build  a  fabric  which  is  strong  enough 
to  resist  the  violence  of  the  breakers.  It  teaches 
us  that  among  all  the  works  of  God  there  is  nothing 
to  be  thought  likely  of,  or  considered  insignificant. 
The  meanest  insect  may  be  designed  by  its  Maker 


84  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

to  perform  some  important  task  in  the  world,  which 
man,  perhaps,  would  be  quite  unable  to  accomplish." 

"  And  do  the  coral  insects  begin  building  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  and  work  on  till  they  get  to  the 
top  ?"  said  Henry. 

"  By  asking  that  question,  Henry,  you  have 
started  a  difficulty,"  said  his  father.  "  Coral  islands 
are  found  in  seas  three  hundred  fathoms  deep,  and 
yet  the  coral  animal  cannot  exist  at  a  greater  depth 
in  the  sea  than  about  twenty  fathoms.*  Therefore, 
during  the  great  changes  in  the  earth's  surface 
which  I  have  already  spoken  of,  the  level  of  the 
sea  must  either  have  been  lower  when  these  ani- 
mals began  to  build,  or  else  we  must  suppose  them 
to  have  laid  their  foundation  on  submarine  rocks, 
within  twenty  fathoms  of  the  surface.  On  some  of 
these  islands  the  coral  rocks  appear  to  have  been 
forcibly  raised  above  the  surface  of  the  waters  ; 
for,  I  should  tell  you,  that  the  builders  themselves 
never  work  above  the  waves.  The  ocean  is  their 
element,  and  in  it  they  live  and  die." 

"The  islands,  as  these  creatures  make  them, 
must  be  stony  and  barren  places,"  said  Henry. 
"  How  do  they  become  fit  for  people  to  live  on  ?" 

"  The  waves  of  the  sea  throw  up  fragments  of 
the  rock  itself,  together  with  shells  and  sand,  on 
the  surface  of  the  island,  and  these  soon  form  a 
soil  for  the  seeds  which  are  conveyed  on  the  waters 

*  A  fathom  is  six  feet. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  85 

from  distant  places.  Mosses,  and  other  small 
plants,  soon  clothe  the  dazzling  white  surface  of 
the  coral  ;  and  sometimes  entire  trunks  of  trees 
are  wafted  thither  from  other  shores,  bearing  with 
them  the  eggs  and  insects,  as  the  first  contribution 
towards  peopling  the  surface.  Sea-birds  soon  make 
a  resting-place  of  the  island  ;  and  when  trees  and 
bushes  begin  to  spring  up,  strayed  land-birds  also 
find  shelter  therein.  Thus  "does  the  soil  become 
gradually  fit  for  the  use  of  man,  though  the  pro- 
cess may  be  extremely  slow,  by  which  all  these 
changes  are  effected." 

"  Where  are  these  wonderful  coral  islands  to*  be 
found  ?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Chiefly  in  the  Pacific  Ocean,  which  is  distin- 
guished from  all  other  seas  by  the  vast  number  of 
its  islands." 

"  But  they  are  not  all  coral  islands,  are  they,  papa  ?" 

"  Not  all,  perhaps  ;  but  the  greater  part  are  so," 
replied  her  father  ;  "  some  of  the  coral  islands  are 
very  low,  being  nothing  more  than  curved  belts  of 
rocks,  rising  a  yard  or  two  above  the  surface  of 
the  water,  and  enclosing  a  portion  of  the  sea,  which 
is  called  a  lagoon,  or  lake.  These  coral  formations 
frequently  enclose  not  only  a  large  lagoon,  but  sev- 
eral small  islands.  Many  of  them  extend,  in  an  ir- 
regular curve,  to  the  length  of  ten  or  twenty  miles, 
the  width  of  the  reef  of  rocks  not  being  more  than 
half  a  mile.  These  rocks  are  covered  with  the 


86  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

most  luxuriant  vegetation,  and  the  feathery  foliage 
of  the  cocoa-nut  tree  waves  gracefully  in  the  trade 
wind.  The  coral  shores  are  of  dazzling  white- 
ness." 

"  These  islands  must  be  very  beautiful,"  said 
Mary  ;  '•  but  I  should  not  like  their  being  so  low." 

"  You  would  like  those  better,  that  papa  said 
had  been  lifted  up  by  some  means,"  said  Henry. 

"  Mary  would  not  think  them  so  beautiful,"  said 
her  father,  "  for  although  they  are  more  elevated 
they  have  fewer  trees.  Some  of  the  rocks  have 
been  forced  up  from  one  hundred  to  five  hundred 
feet  above  the  water's  edge.  These  bear  marks  of 
having  once  been  coral  rocks,  but  by  the  action  of 
the  weather,  they  are  now  much  harder  and 
brighter  than  coral,  and  the  islands  formed  by  them 
are  called  crystal  islands.  Some  of  them  have 
beautiful  caverns,  the  roofs  of  which  are  composed 
of  crystalized  coral.  Such  islands  are  not  very 
numerous. 

"  Before  we  leave  the  subject  of  islands,"  con- 
tinued their  father,  "  I  must  tell  you  that  the  vol- 
canic islands  are  protected  from  the  waves  by  a 
reef  of  coral,  and  sometimes  this  reef  is  a  mile  and 
a  half,  or  two  miles  from  the  beach.  In  the  case  of 
an  island  called  Bolabola,  the  reef  extends  like  a 
ring  round  the  island,  and  is  sufficiently  raised 
above  the  waters  to  produce  groves  of  cocoa-nut 
trees.  The  openings  in  the  reefs  of  the  larger 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


87 


islands   are   generally   opposite    the   mouth    of    a 
river. 

"  You  see  in  the  cut.  a  beautiful  view  of  Bolabo- 
In,  surrounded  with  its  ring-like  reef  on  which  the 
cocoa-nut  trees  are  growing.  What  a  contrast  be- 
tween the  low  islands  with  their  luxuriant  foliage 
and  fruit,  and  the  bold  cliif  that  rises  like  a  steeple 
to  the  sky,  and  looks  as  though  it  had  defied  the 
storms  and  hurricanes  of  centuries  I" 


BOLABOLA. 

"  What  are  hurricanes  ?"  asked  Robert. 

"  They  are  terrific  storms  of  wind,  often  rushing 


88  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

from  different  quarters  at  the  same  time,  and  com- 
mitting frightful  devastation." 

"  But  what  do  they  do,  papa  ?"  said  Robert. 

"  They  tear  up  trees  by  the  roots,  and  overthrow 
houses  and  churches,  occasioning  great  loss  ot 
property,  and  sometimes  of  life.  They  are  often 
very  destructive  in  the  West  India  Islands,  and  in- 
deed in  all  the  tropics." 

By  this  time  the  boat  approached  the  landing  on 
Staten  Island,  where  our  happy  little  party  were 
to  go  ashore,  and  the  conversation,  in  which  they 
all  had  been  so  much  interested,  was  brought  to  a 
close. 

It  was  no  new  thing  to  them  to  enter  into  such 
little  instructive  discussions.  The  children  were 
eager  to  know  all  about  the  subjects  of  which  they 
read,  and  their  father  was  most  happy  to  answer 
their  inquiries,  and  to  gratify  their  desire  for  use- 
ful knowledge. 

If  it  is  our  privilege  ever  to  be  present  at  another 
of  their  cozy  conversations,  you,  my  young  friends, 
shall  be  informed  of  what  they  say. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  89 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  IRON  MASK. 


N  the  reign  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth, 
a  mysterious  captive,  with  his  face 
concealed  by  a  black  mask,  was  con- 
fined successively  in  the  fortress  of  Pignerol, 
in  that  of  the  Isle  of  Saint  Marguerite,  and 
lastly  in  the  Bastile.  His  imprisonment  included  a 
period  of  twenty-four  years,  during  which  he  was 
always  in  custody  of  the  Signor  de  St.  Mars,  who 
was  consecutively  the  commandant  or  governor  of 
all  these  fortresses.  In  April,  1687,  the  masked 
prisoner  was  brought  from  Pignerol  to  St.  Margue- 
rite, which  is  an  island  in  the  Mediterranean  on  the 
coast  of  Provence.  He  was  carried  in  a  chair  so 
closely  covered  with  oil-cloth  as  to  conceal  him  en- 
tirely ;  eight  men  were  in  attendance  to  carry  it  in 
turn,  being  accompanied  by  a  guard  of  soldiers  and 
St.  Mars  the  governor.  His  island  prison  was  a 
room  in  one  of  the  towers  of  the  fortress  facing 
the  north,  lighted  by  a  single  window  set  in  a  very 
thick  stone  wall.  This  casement  was  guarded  by 
bars  of  iron  and  looked  out  upon  the  sea — and  here 
he  remained  in  rigid  confinement  for  eleven  years. 


90  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

It  has  been  related  that,  while  imprisoned  in  this 
place,  the  unknown  captive  wrote  something  with 
a  knife  upon  one  of  his  silver  plates  and  threw  the 
plate  from  the  window,  towards  a  boat  which  was 
moored  near  the  foot  of  the  tower.  A  fisherman 
picked  up  the  plate  and  honestly  carried  it  to  the 
governor,  who,  much  surprised,  inquired  if  he  had 
read  the  writing  upon  it.  "  I  do  not  know  how  to 
read,"  answered  the  fisherman  ;  "  I  have  just  found 
the  plate,  and  no  one  else  has  seen  it."  He  was, 
nevertheless,  detained  within  the  fort  for  several 
days  ;  and,  when  dismissing  him  with  a  reward,  the 
governor  said,  "  Go,  you  are  very  fortunate  in  not 
knowing  how  to  read." 

It  is  also  asserted  that,  on  another  occasion,  the 
prisoner  wrote  all  over  a  fine  shirt,  which  was  seen 
floating  on  the  water  just  under  his  window,  by  a 
friar  of  this  island.  This  priest  was  so  conscien- 
tious as  to  carry  it  directly  to  St.  Mars,  who  press- 
ed him  eagerly  to  tell  him  if  he  had  read  it. 
Though  the  friar  positively  denied  having  done  so, 
yet  knowing  that  he  of  course  was  able  to  read,  the 
governor  still  doubted  his  veracity.  Two  days 
afterwards  this  friar  was  found  dead  in  his  bed. 

In  the  autumn  of  1698,  the  unknown  captive  was 
transferred  to  the  Bastile,  of  which  St.  Mars  was 
appointed  commandant.  The  journey  from  the 
southern  coast  of  France  to  the  city  of  Paris  was, 
in  those  days,  a  very  long  one.  The  mysterious 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  91 

prisoner  was  carried  in  a  litter,  a  closely-curtained 
vehicle  slung  between  two  horses.  The  litter  was 
guarded  by  soldiers  on  horseback  and  accompanied 
by  the  carriage  of  Saint  Mars,  at  whose  own  estate 
of  Palteau — which  was  near  the  road — they  passed 
a  night  and  part  of  two  days. 

The  prisoner  was  of  tall  stature  and  remarkably 
fine  figure.  His  face  was  covered  by  a  mask  of 
black  velvet,  strengthened  and  shaped  with  whale- 
bone, and  fastened  behind  with  a  small  padlock, 
of  which  St.  Mars,  always  kept  the  key.  This 
mask  was  erroneously  reported  to  be  made  of  iron, 
and  the  belief  became  so'general — notwithstanding 
the  impossibility  of  any  human  being  continuing 
long  in  existence  with  a  covering  of  that  metal 
perpetually  on  his  face — that  "  the  man  with  the 
iron  mask''  is  the  appellation  by  which  this  unfor- 
tunate personage  has  always  been  distinguished. 
The  name  by  which  St.  Mars  addressed  him  was 
Marchiali :  but  it  was  understood  to  be  fictitious, 
and  merely  adopted  because  of  the  necessity  that 
those  about  him  should,  for  their  own  convenience, 
call  him  something. 

During  the  journey  from  St.  Marguerite  to  Paris, 
the  governor  always  sat  opposite  to  him  at  table, 
with  a  loaded  pistol  on  each  side  of  his  plate,  that 
he  might  shoot  the  prisoner  in  case  he  attempted 
to  discover  himself,  even  to  the  single  domestic 
that  waited  on  them  at  meals.  The  dishes  were 


92 


ME  BEY'S  BOOK    OF 


left  in  the  ante-room,  and  brought  to  the  eating-de- 
partment by  this  servant,  who  carefully  locked  the 
door  whenever  he  came  in.  A  bed  was  put  up  for 
St.  Mars,  close  to  that  of  his  charge,  that  he  might 
keep  him  in  view  during  the  night. 


In  the  afternoon  that  they  arrived  at  the  Bastile 
the  masked  captive  was  immediately  shut  up  in  one 
of  the  lower  rooms  ;  but  at  nine  in  the  evening  he 
was  conducted  by  Dujonca,  the  king's  lieutenant — 
who  relates  the  circumstance — to  an  apartment 
prepared  for  him  in  that  part  of  the  building  called 
the  Bertaudiere  tower,  where  he  wore  away  the 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  93 

last  five  years  of  his  melancholy  existence.  His 
face  was  always  concealed  by  the  black  mask,  and 
never  seen  even  by  his  physician.  He  was  evi- 
dently of  a  dark  or  brown  complexion,  and  his 
hair  was  tinged  with  gray.  His  skin  was  extreme- 
ly fine  and  smooth,  and  his  voice  remarkably  agree- 
able. He  was  only  permitted  to  speak  to  the  gov- 
ernor St.  Mars,  to  Rosarges  the  major-domo,  to 
Reilh  the  surgeon,  and  to  Girault  the  chaplain  of 
the  Bastile.  He  was  allowed  sometimes  to  hear 
mass  in  the  chapel  of  that  fortress,  passing  thither 
through  the  court-yard  between  a  line  of  soldiers, 
all  ranged  with  their  muskets  presented,  and  hav- 
ing orders  to  fire  on  him  if  he  spoke.  He  read 
much  in  the  solitude  of  his  tower,  and  was  fre- 
quently heard  to  play  on  the  guitar. 

The  prisoner  with  the  mask  died  in  the  Bastile, 
on  the  19th  of  November,  1703,  after  a  few  hours' 
illness  ;  expiring  so  suddenly  that  the  chaplain, 
who  was  sent  for  to  administer  the  last  sacrament, 
had  only  time  to  address  a  few  words  to  his  parting 
spirit.  The  date  of  his  arrival  at  the  Bastile  under 
the  name  of  Marchiah,  with  the  day  and  hour  of 
his  death,  were  regularly  registered  on  the  archive 
of  that  gloomy  prison,  and  respected  long  after  by 
many  persons  whose  curiosity  led  them  to  examine 
into  the  few  facts  that  glimmer  through  the  mist 
which  will  most  probably  rest  forever  on  his 
history. 


94  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

On  the  day  that  followed  the  close  of  his  life  and 
sufferings,  the  body  of  the  unknown  captive  was 
wrapped  in  a  winding  sheet  of  fine  new  linen,  and 
interred  in  the  cemetery  of  St.  Paul's  Church  in 
Paris.  There  is  a  tradition  of  a  gentleman  having 
bribed  the  sexton  to  open  the  grave  and  allow  him 
to  look  at  the  corpse  of  Marchiali  the  night  after 
its  burial.  On  removing  the  coffin  lid  it  was  found 
the  head  was  not  there,  a  stone  being  in  place  of  it. 

Immediately  after  the  death  of  the  prisoner,  or- 
ders were  received  at  the  Bastile  to  destroy  every 
thing  that  had  been  used  in  his  service.  His 
clothes,  bedding,  and  bedstead  were  burnt,  as  were 
the  tables  and  chairs  belonging  to  his  room ;  the 
window  frame  and  the  door  were  burnt  also. 
Whatever  was  made  of  silver  or  any  other  metal 
was  melted  down,  and  some  articles  were  pounded 
to  powder,  even  the  glass  of  his  window  and  his 
mirror.  The  tiles  that  paved  the  floor  were  all 
taken  up  lest  he  should  have  concealed  under  them 
something  that  might  lead  to  the  disclosure  of  his 
real  name  and  story  ;  everything  beneath  was  care- 
fully scraped  away,  and  the  pavement  replaced  by 
a  new  one.  Even  the  ceiling  was  taken  away  and 
replaced  by  another  ;  the  walls  were  also  plastered 
anew.  It  was  obvious  that  great  apprehensions 
were  entertained  of  his  having  left  some  indica- 
tions which  might  tend  to  the  discovery  of  a  secret, 
that  even  after  death  was  never  to  be  disclosed. 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  95 

For  more  than  a  century,  conjecture  has  been 
busy  as  to  the  true  history  of  this  remarkable  pris- 
oner, about  whom  so  many  extraordinary  precau- 
tions were  taken  by  the  government  of  France  ; 
various  theories  being  adopted  concerning  his 
identity,  with  numerous  conjectures  as  to  the  cause 
of  his  long  and  rigorous  captivity,  and  the  unre- 
mitting concealment  of  his  face.  Yer}r  plausible 
evidence  has  been  adduced — particularly  within 
the  last  few  years — to  show  that  the  person  called 
the  man  with  the  iron  mask  could  be  no  other  than 
Count  Matthioli,  the  confidential  secretary  and  first 
minister  of  Charles  Ferdinand  duke  of  Mantua. 
With  this  Prince,  Louis  the  Fourteenth  had  enter- 
ed into  a  private  negotiation  for  the  purchase  of 
his  chief  city.  But  the  faithful  secretary  dissuaded 
the  duke  of  Mantua  from  selling  any  part  of  his 
dominions,  and  induced  him  to  break  off  the  treaty 
and  unite  himself  with  the  other  princes  of  Italy 
in  oppressing  and  curbing  the  ambitious  encroach- 
ments of  the  king  of  France.  Count  Matthioli 
went  to  Rome,  Venice,  Geneva,  and  other  Italian 
states,  and  succeeded  so  well  as  to  detach  them  all 
from  the  interest  of  France  ;  and  he  finally  repair- 
ed to  Turin  with  the  same  intention.  The  French 
government,  however,  had  been  secretly  informed 
of  all  these  missions,  and  was  therefore  highly  in- 
censed against  the  Mantuan  minister.  Now  that 
he  was  so  near  the  territories  of  the  king  of  France, 


96  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

a  design  was  formed  to  entrap  him  for  punishment, 
and  by  shutting  him  up  in  secret  to  prevent  his 
farther  interference  with  any  plans  against  Italy. 
Marshal  Oatinat — who  commanded  the  French 
troops  in  that  part  of  the  frontier — invited  Matthi- 
oli  to  a  meeting  in  the  vicinity  of  Pignerol.  Here 
Catinat  awaited  him  with  some  officers  and  soldiers  ; 
and,  contrary  to  the  law  of  nations,  Matthioli,  the 
subject  and  minister  of  a  foreign  prince,  was  im- 
mediately arrested,  and  conducted  to  the  fortress 
of  Pignerol,  which  was  the  commencement  of  his 
long  and  strict  captivity.  His  wife  retired  to  a 
convent  of  nuns  in  Bologna. 

That  the  man  with  the  iron  mask  was  Count 
Matthioli  is  the  latest,  and  probably  the  truest  ex- 
planation of  a  mystery  which  perhaps  will  never 
be  more  clearly  elucidated.  This  opinion  was  first 
suggested  about  sixty  years  ago,  and  has  been  re- 
cently revived.  The  belief  generally  prevailing 
throughout  the  last  century,  regarded  the  unknown 
captive — for  the  concealment  of  whose  identity 
such  extraordinary  precautions  were  taken  both 
when  living  and  dead — as  a  person  of  much  higher 
rank  and  consequence  than  the  secretary  of  an 
Italian  prince. 

Yoltaire,  and  other  writers,  asserted  their  con- 
viction that  the  man  with  the  iron  mask  was  in 
reality  a  twin  brother  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth. 
According  to  their  statement,  it  had  been  reported 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  97 

at  court  that  a  herdsman  who  professed  the  power 
of  prophecy,  had  predicted  that  if  tnere  should  be 
two  dauphins  in  France,  their  rival  claims  to  the 
throne  would  convulse  the  whole  kingdom  and  de- 
luge it  in  blood.  The  rage  of  superstition  had  not 
yet  gone  by. 

On  the  birth  of  the  twin  princes  the  expedient 
was  adopted  of  concealing  one  of  them,  but  keep- 
ing him  alive  in  case  the  death  of  his  brother 
should  leave  the  crown  without  an  heir,  and  make 
it  expedient  to  produce  him.  He  was,  therefore, 
sent  to  a  remote  place  at  the  southern  extremity 
of  the  kingdom,  and  there  brought  up  in  secret ; 
while  his  more  fortunate  brother  was  presented  to 
the  world  as  dauphin  of  France  and  successor  to 
the  throne. 

The  story  goes  that  after  the  rejected  prince  had 
grown  up,  the  resemblance  of  his  features  to  those 
of  his  brother — who  was  now  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
— became  so  striking,  as  to  make  it  dangerous  to 
allow  him  to  be  seen,  lest  the  truth  should  be 
guessed  and  a  party  raised  in  his  favor.  It  was, 
therefore,  considered  expedient  to  cover  his  face 
with  a  perpetual  mask,  and  to  shut  him  up  for  life, 
in  the  custody  of  one  who  could  be  trusted  with 
the  secret. 

Voltaire's  version  of  the  story  of  the  man  with 
the  iron  mask,  whether  true  or  false,  has  always 
been  the  most  popular  ;  and  he  hints  being  in  the 


98 


MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 


confidence  of  some  one  who  owns  the  facts.  It 
seems  to  offer  the  best  explanation  for  the  iinpor- 
.tance  that  was  certainly  attached  to  the  prisoner  ; 
for  the  concealment  of  his  features  ;  for  the  unre- 
mitting closeness  with  which  he  was  watched  while 
living  j  and  for  the  apprehensions  of  discovery 
which  even  his  death  could  not  allay.  It  is  suppos- 
ed that  both  the  Fifteenth  and  Sixteenth  Louis 
were  acquainted  with  the  secret,  and  that  it  is 
probably  known  to  the  few  surviving  descendants 
of  the  old  royal  family  of  France. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE 


TRAVELS  ABOUT  AFRICA. 


ROBABLY  most  of  our  readers  think  of 
Africa  as  a  country  famous  for  black  people 
with  curly  hair,  thick  lips  and  flat  noses  — 
>7  a  capital  place  for  deserts  and  all  sorts  of  wild 
'  beasts  —  a  land  where  you  may  get  plenty  ot 
elephants'  teeth  and  plenty  of  gold  dust  —  where 
you  will  see  fierce  lions  and  tigers  and  birds  ot 
beautiful  plumage  —  and  where,  if  you  have  a  fancy 
for  the  thing,  you  may  journey  on  an  ostrich's  back 
with  almost  incredible  rapidity  —  a  land  where  you 
may  be  broiled  to  death  by  the  sun,  smothered 
with  the  hot  burning  sand,  die  of  thirst  in  the 
pathless  desert,  be  eaten  up  by  tigers  or  swallowed 
alive  by  a  huge  snake.  If  you  have  a  relish  for  any 
of  these,  or  for  some  genuine  Gilbert  Go-ahead  adven- 
tures, we  advise  you  to  start  off  directly  for  Africa. 
We  will  warrant  that  your  adventures  will  not  lack 
thrilling  interest  and  startling  variety.  Perhaps 
some  of  our  young  readers  will  be  induced  to  take 
a  tour,  and  write  home  an  account  of  their  discov- 
eries. We  do  not  intend  to  forestall  any  such  un- 
dertaking by  writing  an  extended  article  on  Africa, 
but  will  confine  ourselves  to  a  few  generalities. 


100 


MERR  Y'S  >  BO  OK     OF 


Africa  is  a  country  marked  by  striking  contrasts. 
Some  portions  of  it  were  the  first  to  be  explored 
and  occupied  by  man,  while  others  remain  to  the 
present  day  unexplored  and  unknown  regions.  In 


early  ages,  it  was  the  seat  and  centre  of  learning 
and  science,  while  now,  the  most  of  its  inhabitants 
are  shrouded  in  intellectual  and  moral  darkness. 
Africa  presents  the  most  remarkable  contrast  of 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE 


101 


fertility  and  desolation  ;  the  valley  of  the  Nile  is 
the  garden  of  the  world,  while  the  wastes  of  Sahara 
are  proverbial  for  their  desolation. 


In  surveying  its  civil  and  social  condition,  we 
see  the  negroes,  a  weak  and  harmless  race,  made 
the  prey  of  the  Arab,  the  most  despotic  and  re- 
morseless of  the  human  family. 


102  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

The  lion,  the  leopard,  and  the  panther,  feasting 
upon  the  vast  herds  of  antelopes  that  graze  over 
the  central  wastes  of  Africa,  afford  a  striking  anal- 
ogy to  human  society — the  weak,  the  timid,  and  the 
defenceless,  being  made,  without  mercy  or  scruple, 
the  prey  of  the  daring  and  the  strong. 

The  prevailing  aspect  of  the  country  in  Africa 
is  rude,  gloomy  and  sterile.  It  may  be  considered 
as  in  all  respects  the  least  favored  quarter  of  the 
globe.  Its  immense  deserts,  exposed  to  the  verti- 
cal rays  of  a  tropical  sun,  are  deprived  of  all  the 
moisture  necessary  to  cover  them  with  vegetation. 
Moving  sands,  tossed  by  wind,  and  whirled  in  ed- 
dies, surround  and  often  bury  the  traveler.  The 
best  known  and  most  fertile  portion  of  Africa  is 
that  which  borders  upon  the  Mediterranean  Sea. 
The  least  known  regions  are  the  central  portions 
into  whose  depths  no  traveler  has  yet  thoroughly 
penetrated  ;  but  it  is  the  general  impression  of 
travelers,  founded  on  partial  explorations,  that 
there  are  immense  territories  of  fine  land  in  the 
interior  of  Africa — that  they  enjoy  a  healthful  cli- 
mate, and  are  populated  by  a  large  and  not  unlike- 
ly an  intelligent  people,  whose  entire  history  is  as 
yet  unknown  to  the  world.  We  do  not  know  from 
actual  discovery,  that  there  are  many  tribes  in  the 
inland  territories  greatly  superior  to  those  inhabit- 
ing the  coasts. 

The  portions  of  central  Africa  that  have  been 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


103 


explored,  have  been  found  to  be  full  of  interest. 
They  abound  in  varied  and  wonderful  scenery,  and 
are  inhabited  by  tribes  of  varied  character  and 
habits.  These  tribes  are  quite  distinct  from  each 
other,  and  as  diversified  in  their  tastes  and  habits 


as  you  can  imagine.  We  cannot  better  illustrate 
this  fact  than  by  wood-cut  representations  of  local 
African  chiefs  introduced  in  this  article.  They 


104  MERRY'S    SOOK    OF 

seem  to  be  arrayed  in  full  costume,  and,  to  their 
uncultivated  taste,  their  adorning  doubtless  appears 
very  becoming. 

In  the  moral  existence  of  those  portions  of  cen- 
tral Africa  that  have  been  explored,  there  are  many 
very  dark  features.  War  is  carried  on  with  all  the 
ferocity  of  the  most  barbarous  nations  ;  tribe  is  ar- 
rayed against  tribe,  and  the  territory  of  the  con- 
quered is  made  a  desolation  and  a  waste.  Yet  it 
must  not  be  concluded  that  an  unbroken  gloom 
hangs  over  the  moral  condition  of  Africa.  There 
seems  to  be  something  peculiarly  engaging  and 
amiable  in  the  social  feelings  and  habits  there  pre- 
valent. 

When  Mungo  Park  was  traveling  in  central 
Africa,  he  arrived  one  night  at  Sego,  in  Bambarra, 
but  the  king  was  suspicious  of  him,  and  forbade 
him  to  advance  and  cross  the  river.  Under  these 
circumstances,  he  was  obliged  to  return  and  lodge 
in  a  distant  village.  But  there  the  same  distrust 
of  the  white  man  prevailed,  and  no  person  would 
allow  him  to  enter  his  house.  He  says,  u  I  was  re- 
garded with  astonishment  and  fear,  and  was  oblig- 
ed to  sit  witttiut  food  under  the  shade  of  a  tree. 
The  wind  arose,  and  there  was  a  great  appearance 
of  a  heavy  rain  ;  and  the  wild  beasts  were  so  nu- 
merous in  the  neighborhood,  that  I  should  have 
been  obliged  to  take  shelter  among  the  branches 
of  the  trees. 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  105 

About  sunset,  as  I  was  preparing  to  pass  the 
night  in  this  manner,  and  had  turned  my  horse 
loose  that  he  might  graze  at  liberty,  a  woman  re- 
turning from  the  labors  of  the  field,  stopped  to  ob- 
serve me.  Perceiving  that  I  was  weary  and  de- 
jected, she  inquired  into  my  situation,  which  I 
briefly  explained  to  her  ;  whereupon,  with  looks 
of  great  compassion,  she  took  up  my  saddle  and 
bridle  arid  bade  me  follow  her.  Having  conducted 
me  into  her  hut,  she  lighted  a  lamp,  spread  a  mat 
on  the  floor  and  told  me  I  might  remain  there  for 
the  night.  Finding  that  I  was  hungry,  she  went 
out  and  soon  returned  with  a  very  fine  fish,  which 
being  broiled  upon  some  embers,  she  gave  me  for 
supper.  The  women  then  resumed  their  labors  ot 
spinning  cotton,  and  lightened  their  labor  with 
songs,  one  of  which  must  have  been  composed  ex- 
tempore, for  I  was  myself  the  subject  of  it.  It 
was  sung  by  one  of  the  young  women,  the  rest 
joining  in  a  kind  of  chorus.  The  air  was  sweet 
and  plaintive,  and  the  words,  literally  translated, 
were  these  : — 

"  The  winds  roared,  and  the  rains  fell ; 
The  poor  white  man,  faint  and  wea^M^  t 
Came  and  sat  under  our  tree. 
He  has  no  mother  to  bring  him  milk, 
No  wife  to  grind  his  corn. 

CHORUS. 

Let  us  pity  the  white  man, 
No  mother  has  he  to  bring  him  milk, 
No  wife  to  srind  his  corn." 


106  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

The  reader  can  fully  sympathize  with  this  intel- 
ligent traveler,  when  he  observes,  "  trifling  as  this 
recital  may  appear,  the  circumstance  was  highly 
affecting  to  a  person  in  my  situation.  I  was  op- 
pressed with  such  unaffected  kindness,  and  sleep 
fled  from  my  eyes.  In  the  morning  I  presented 
my  compassionate  landlady  with  two  of  the  four 
brass  buttons  remaining  on  my  waistcoat,  the  only 
recompense  I  could  make  her." 

So  far  as  observations  have  extended,  the  people 
in  central  Africa  are  rude  in  their  tastes  and  ex- 
tremely uncultivated  in  all  their  habits  and  feelings. 
The  dress  and  ornaments  indicated  by  the  costume 
of  the  chiefs  as  in  the  above  cuts,  marks  a  barba- 
rous age,  and  shows  that  whatever  qualities  they 
may  possess,  there  is  ample  room  for  civilization 
and  Christianity  to  work  improvement,  and  it  is  an 
interesting  feature  of  the  present  times  that  great 
interest  is  felt  among  all  Christian  people  in  there- 
generation  of  Africa.  Almost  every  denomination 
of  Christians  is  sending  missionaries  among  them. 
The  coasts  are  being  occupied  by  intelligent  and 
thriving  settlers,  commerce  with  other  nations  is 
every  yeaufcextended  and  enlarged,  towns  and 
cities  are  springing  up,  schools  are  started,  and 
churches  are  built,  and  alL  the  blessings  of  a  well 
ordered  government  are  being  rapidly  introduced. 

While  the  coast  is  thus  being  occupied  with 
Christian  colonies  and  Africa  is  being  surrounded 


TRAVEL      AND     ADVENTURE 


107 


with  a  belt  of  light,  constant  explorations  are  made 
into  the  interior,  and  the  day  may  not  be  distant 
when  Africa  will  come  up  to  take  her  place  among 
the  nations,  and  in  her  advancement  be  honored 
and  blessed. 


108  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 


THE  HIGHLANDS  OF  SCOTLAND. 

n  GOTLAND,  occupying  the  northern  portion  of 
O  Great  Britain,  is  separated  from  England  by  a 
series  of  hills  and  rivers,  and  is  distinguished  from 
that  country  by  many  peculiar  features. 

Bold  mountain  chains  form  a  large  portion  of  the 
surface,  giving  occasion  for  many  deep  inlets  of  the 
sea,  and  rendering  the  general  outline  extremely 
irregular. 

Lakes  embosomed  in  the  hills,  and  clear  and 
rapid  rivers  pouring  along  the  vales,  help  to  com- 
plete the  picture  sketched  by  a  native  poet — 

"  Land  of  the  mountain  and  the  flood, 
Land  of  brown  heath  and  shaggy  wood." 

The  north  of  Scotland  bears  the  general  name  of 
Highlands,  and  may  be  considered  as  one  great 
cluster  of  hills  interspersed  with  deep  precipices, 
rushing  streams,  and  romantic  lakes,  and  forming 
altogether  some  of  th'e  most  wild  and  imposing 
scenery  in  the  world. 

To  one  familiar  with  the  mountain  and  lake 
scenery  of  America,  there  is  not  much  of  novelty 
in  the  mountains  and  lakes  of  the  Highlands,  ex- 
cept that  the  former  appear  more  bald  and  bleak, 
and  the  latter  more  clear  and  tranquil.  As  you 
pass  over  their  smooth  water  you  seem  to  look  into 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  109 


.till 


110  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

its  deepest  depth,  and  discern  its  pebbly  bottom, 
and  you  cannot  but  admire  the  beautiful  images 
formed  on  its  mirrored  surface  by  the  shadows  of 
the  surrounding  hills.  You  will  also  be  attracted 
by  the  irregular  form  and  bold  outline  of  the  lake 
shores — here  is  a  deep-shaded  inlet,  and  there  is  a 
bold  headland  jutting  out  into  the  water. 

The  Highland  country  embraces  about  one-sixth 
of  the  entire  population  of  Scotland.  The  inhabi- 
tants are  of  Celtic  descent,  and  exhibit  many  strik- 
ing peculiarities  of  feature,  language,  dress,  and 
manners.  The  history  of  the  Highlanders  in  the 
earlier  days  of  Scotland  is  full  of  bold  and  romantic 
adventure,  and  has  formed  the  theme  of  many  a 
song  and  story. 

The  remainder  of  the  country  of  Scotland  is 
termed  the  Lowlands,  and  is  less  irregular,  but 
here  the  surface  is  varied  by  hill  and  valley  and 
several  mountain  ranges.  The  inhabitants  are, 
like  the  English,  a  Teutonic  people,  but  with  a 
mixture  of  Celtic  blood,  and  are  distinguished  for 
their  intelligence,  industry,  and  great  energy  of 
character. 

A  country,  with  so  many  physical  disadvantages 
could  never  have  been  brought  into  such  a  condi- 
tion as  respects  rural  husbandry,  or  been  made  so 
prosperous  a  seat  of  manufacture  and  commerce, 
unless  the  people  were  highly  gifted  with  a  spirit 
of  enterprise. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


Ill 


In  the  poorest  districts  we  nowhere  meet  Avith 
the  destitution  and  wretchedness  that  are  found  in 


Ireland  ;  on  the  contrary,  there  is  an  air  of  comfort 
in  their  lowlv  dwellings. 


'I 


112 


MERRY     BOOK     OF 


Caution,  foresight,  and  reflection,  enter  largely 
into  the  Scottish  character,  hence  they  are  slow 
and  sometimes  apparently  cold,  and  appear  to  be 
deficient  in  frankness  and  generosity. 

But  these  qualities  are  only  seeming — they  are 
a  people  of  generous  and  warm-hearted  affections 
— ardently  attached  to  their  country  and  to  the 
spot  that  gave  them  birth,  and  keenly  alive  to  every 
thing  that  reminds  them  of  what  is  honorable  and 
chivalric  in  the  doings  of  their  ancestors. 

If  you  were  to  visit  Scotland  you  would  not  fail 
to  visit  the  lakes  and  other  romantic  spots  that 
have  been  so  justly  admired. 


THE  HIGHLANDERS. 


TRAVEL     A  X  lj     ADVENTURE.  113 


114  MERRY'S    BOOK 

Loch  or  Lake  Katrine,  is  situated  at  a  distance 
of  little  more  than  twenty-five  miles  from  Stirl 
ing,  and  is  remarkable  as  the  scenery  of  Scott's 
Lady  of  the  Lake.  The  lake  is  approached 
through  a  valley  surrounded  by  lofty  hills  and  wild 
precipices,  described  by  Scott  as  "  a  wildering 
scene  of  mountains,  rocks,  and  woods,  thrown  to- 
gether in  disorderly  groups." 

Its  principal  charm  consists  in  the  singular  rug- 
ged wildness  of  its  mountain  sides  and  its  pretty 
rocky  islets  rising  to  a  considerable  height  out  of 
the  water,  and  tufted  over  with  trees  and  shrubs. 

Near  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  lake  there  is 
precisely  such  an  island  as  that  which  is  described 
in  the  poem  as  the  residence  of  the  outlawed  Dou- 
glas and  his  family.  To  fulfil  the  wishes  of  the 
imagination,  Lady  Willoughby  D'Eresby,  the  owner 
of  the  ground,  has  erected  upon  the  island  a  sort  of 
tower  or  cottage,  such  as  that  which  the  said  family 
occupied,  in  order  to  carry  out  the  pleasing  decep- 
tion. 

The  view  of  the  lake  on  approaching  it  from  the 
east  is  rather  confined,  but  from  the  top  of  the 
rocky  mountain  above  the  prospect  is  singularly 
imposing,  and  is  described  by  the  author  of  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  as  follows  : 

"  Gleaming  with  the  setting  sun, 


One  burnished  sheet  of  living  gold, 
Loch  Katrine  lay  beneath  him  rolled, 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  115 

In  all  her  length  far  winding  lay, 

With  promontory,  creek  and  bay, 

And  islands  that  empurpled  bright, 

Floated  amid  the  livelier  light, 

And  mountains  that  like  giants  stand, 

To  sentinel  enchanted  land, 

High  on  the  south,  huge  Ben- Venue 

Down  on  the  lake  its  mosses  threw — 

Craigs,  knolls  and  mounds,  confusedly  hurled, 

The  fragments  of  an  earlier  world  ! 

A  wildering  forest  feathered  o'er 

His  ruined  sides  and  summit  hoar ; 

While  in  the  north,  through  middle  air, 

Ben-An  heaved  high  his  forehead  bare." 

While  we  waited  one  bright  July  afternoon  at  the 
eastern  extremity  of  Loch  Katrine,  for  the  steamer 
that  was  to  take  us  up  the  lake,  we  strolled  along 
the  shore,  and  soon  struck  into  a  bridle  path  which 
winds  its  way  along  the  general  direction  of  the 
northern  shore,  sometimes  corning  down  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  water,  and  then  striking  off  into  some 
glen  densely  shaded  with  the  white  birch  and  fir, 
or  over  some  craggy  steep  where  the  toilsome  as- 
cent is  rewarded  with  an  enchanting  view  of  the 
lake  beneath  our  feet,  and  of  the  solemn  hills  that 
perpetually  stand  as  sentinels  over  it.  During  our 
stroll  of  an  hour  or  two,  wre  wrere  every  few  mo- 
ments greeted  by  the  rapturous  exclamation  of 
some  one  of  our  party,  calling  our  attention  to  a 
new  discovered  beauty  of  prospect.  We  surveyed 
each  little  recess  and  promontory  with  a  childish 
curiosity. 


116  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

"While  some  gathered  treasures  for  their  cabinet, 
of  minerals  or  herbarium,  and  some  shouted  to  the 
top  of  their  voice  that  they  might  hear  its  oft  re- 
peated echoes  among  the  hills  ;  others,  more  poet- 
ically inclined,  repeated  stanzas  from  the  "  Lady  ot 
the  Lake,"  and  endeavored,  in  what  they  actually 
saw,  to  trace  the  truthfulness  of  Sir  "Walter  Scott's 
scenic  delineations.  To  such  the  interest  of  the 
occasion  was  not  at  all  diminished  by  the  appear- 
ance around  a  jutting  crag,  of  a  young  lady  on 
horseback,  riding  at  a  rapid  pace  over  the  uneven 
and  flinty  road.  A  voice  exclaimed,  "  See  the  Lady 
of  the  Lake."  She  did  not  notice  us,  but  rode  with 
an  easy  grace  on  an  indifferent-looking  but  easy- 
paced  steed.  Her  face  was  flushed  from  the  ex- 
citement of  the  ride  ;  she  was  plainly  but  tastefully 
attired,  and  her  whole  bearing  was  such  that  it  was 
no  unpleasant  idea  to  associate  her  with  the  Lady 
of  the  Lake.  Were  we  not  in  a  fairy  land  ?  and 
did  not  the  fairy  lad,y  preside  over  the  scene  that 
had  been  made  immortal  by  her  presence  ?  From 
this  reverie  we  were  hardly  awake,  so  as  to  deter- 
mine whether  we  were  in  a  land  of  dreams  or  of 
realities,  when  the  lady  reined  up  her  steed,  and 
standing  awhile  to  gaze  on  the  laughing  lake,  she 
retraced  her  path,  and  returning  again  passed  near 
us.  To  our  salutation  she  returned  a  graceful  ac- 
knowledgment, and  disappeared  from  our  view. 
If  "  The  Lady  of  the  Lake"  rowed  her  light  canoe 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  117 

more  skilfully  than  our  lady  of  the  lake  rode  her 
black  horse,  she  is  justly  entitled  to  her  fame. 

We  had  wandered  far,  but  were  not  weary,  when, 
in  the  distance  up  the  lake,  we  saw  the  approach 
of  the  steamer  that  was  to  take  us  up  on  its  return. 
We  hastened  back  to  the  place  of  embarking,  and 
were  soon  on  board  and  on  our  way.  The  sun  was 
still  high  in  the  west,  and  we  would  have  ample 
time  to  complete  the  tour  of  the  lake  before  night- 
fall. 

The  sail  up  the  lake  presents  a  succession  of  the 
most  beautiful  views  that  can  be  imagined.  Every 
hill  has  its  name,  and  every  high  rock  its  story. 
The  eagle  circles  about  the  top  of  Ben-Venue, 
while  the  wild  goats  climb  where  there  is  scarcely 
room  for  the  soles  of  their  feet.  Here  and  there 
is  a  sheltered  nook  where  the  mountain  shepherd 
has  built  his  stone  cottage,  but  with  these  excep- 
tions, there  are  no  traces  of  human  abodes.  The 
scene  is  closed  by  a  west  view  of  the  lake,  which 
is  ten  miles  long,  and  the  prospect  is  bounded  by 
the  towering  Alps  of  Arrochar. 

Arrived  at  the  west  end  of  the  lake,  we  found  that 
a  moorland  region,  traversed  by  a  rugged  path  five 
miles  in  length,  intervened  between  us  and  Loch 
Lomond,  on  whose  shores  we  wished  to  spend  the 
night.  Shaggy  Highland  ponies  were  in  attend- 
ance, and  pony-carts  to  carry  us  over.  We  were 
soon  on  our  way,  some  on  carts,  some  on  saddles, 


118  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

and  some  on  foot,  their  baggage  being  sent  forward. 
We  passed  a  smoky  hut  in  the  valley  between  Loch 
Katrine  and  Loch  Lomond,  in  which  is  exhibited  a 
Spanish  musket  six  feet  and  a  half  long,  once  the 
property  of  Rob  Roy,  whose  original  residence  was 
in  this  lone  vale.  We  also  saw  the  hut  where  it  is 
said  that  Helen  M'Gregor,  Rob  Roy's  wife,  was 
born.  Near  by  this  hut  were  men  and  women  in 
full  Highland  costume,  at  work  in  a  field  of  hay. 
After  our  ride  over  the  moor,  which,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  some  of  the  lower  valleys,  was  covered 
with  heather,  we  arrived  at  Inversnaid  Mill,  on 
Loch  Lomond. 

A  few  rods  from  the  hotel  a  little  rivulet  comes 
tumbling  down  over  precipitous  rocks  and  forms  a 
milky  cataract,  which  is  the  scene  of  Wordsworth's 
beautiful  poem  to  the  "  Highland  Girl.'7 

One  afternoon,  while  tarrying  at  this  place,  we 
crossed  over  the  rivulet  and  strolled  up  the  moun- 
tain side  ;  at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile  we  ap- 
proached a  highland  hut,  which  stood  alone  and  sol- 
itary on  the  bleak  eminence  that  commanded  a 
broad  view  of  Loch  Lomond,  and  of  the  towering 
peak  of  Ben  Lomond.  Here  were  no  fences  to  be 
seen,  and  nothing  to  denote  the  presence  of  civili- 
zation but  the  low  stone  walls  of  the  hut,  with  its 
thatched  roof  and  two  little  windows  of  four  panes 
of  seven-by-nine  glass,  and  a  little  potato  patch 
and  cow-house  near  by. 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  119 

A.  s  we  approached,  we  saw  a  robust  and  intelli- 
gent looking  girl,  apparently  about  twenty  years 
old,  standing  in  the  door  and  watching  intently  our 
movements. 

Having  a  curiosity  ourselves  to  see  the  interior 
of  the  lowly  dwelling,  we  entered  into  conversation 
with  her.  She  treated  us  courteously,  and  replied 
to  all  our  enquiries  with  a  dignified  self-possession, 
that  many  a  mistress  of  a  proud  drawing-room 
might  envy.  What,  though  her  feet  were  bare,  and 
her  garments  coarse  and  homespun,  they  were  clean 
and  appropriate  to  her  mode  of  life.  The  glow  of 
health  was  on  her  cheek,  and  her  whole  manner  be- 
tokened an  active,  intelligent  mind,  and  a  cheerful 
and  buoyant  heart. 

She  pointed  out  the  beauties  of  the  surrounding 
scenery  with  an  appreciative  taste  ;  told  us  the 
history  of  her  father's  family,  and  while  she  was 
entertaining  us,  her  father,  an  old  man  of  more  than 
seventy  years,  approached  from  his  day's  toil  with 
a  scythe  on  his  shoulder,  and,  with  a  courteous  tip 
of  his  hat,  joined  our  circle. 

He  said  his  name  was  McFarland  ;  this,  too,  was 
the  name  of  Wordsworth's  "  Highland  Girl,"  and 
for  aught  we  knew,  she  was  of  the  same  family. 
He  was  born  in  that  hut;  his  father,  and  grand- 
father, and  great  grandfather,  were  born  and  died 
there.  It  had  been  in  the  family  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  years,  and  during  that  time  had  not 


120  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

b-jcii  repaired,  except  to  be  thatched  anew  from 
time  to  time  ;  and  the  furniture  had  not  been 
changed.  He  expected  himself  to  die  there  ere 
long,  and  then  his  son  would  take  it.  It  belonged 
to  the  estate  of  the  Duke  of  Montrose,  as  do  all  the 
lands  for  miles  about  there.  They  paid  an  annual 
rent  of  five  pounds  for  the  cottage  and  potato-patch, 
and  pasturage  and  hay  for  the  cow. 

We  were  kindly  invited  to  go  into  the  cottage 
and  drink  a  glass  of  milk.  We  gladly  accepted  the 
invitation,  for  we  were  curious  to  see  the  interior. 
There  were  two  rooms,  separated  by  a  partial  par- 
tition, afire  of  turf  was  burning  in  a  rude  fire-place, 
sending  out  its  smoke  in  every  part  of  the  room. 
Instead  of  a  chimney,  there  was  an  opening  in  the 
thatch  through  which  part  of  the  smoke  escaped. 
The  rafters,  and  every  object  in  both  rooms  were 
literally  japanned  with  crystallized,  smoke,  and 
shone  like  glass  in  the  dim  light.  Instead  of  floor 
there  was  the  hard  earth,  smoothed  by  the  wear  of 
many  generations,  but  still  damp  and  gloomy.  The 
furniture  was  simple  and  well  worn.  The  dingy 
crockery  and  pewter  platters  adorned  a  li  dresser" 
in  the  corner. 

By  the  fireside,  with  her  knitting  in  hand,  sat 
the  old  lady,  who  for  fifty  years  had  been  the  com- 
panion of  her  husband  in  that  lowly  hut,  and  who 
was  full  of  cheerfulness  and  good  humor.  She  read 
to  us  from  her  Gallic  Bible  and  Psalm  book,  and 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  121 


122  MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 

told  stories  in  her  broad  Scotch  till  the  smoky  roof 
resounded  with  our  laughter. 

Away  over  the  loche,  ten  miles  distant,  they  at- 
tend church  on  the  Sabbath.  To  us  it  would  seem 
that  their  home-comforts  must  be  few.  Their 
dwelling  is  a  fair  sample  of  many  Highland  cotta- 
ges which  we  afterwards  entered.  Luxuries  the 
Highlanders  have  none,  and  even  comforts  are  few, 
yet  they  are  content  with  their  lot,  and  are  a  cheer- 
ful, intelligent,  and  worthy  people,  affectionate  in 
their  families,  loyal  to  their  Queen,  and  true  to 
their  Church. 

Loche  Awe  is  another  of  the  celebrated  lakes. 
The  cut  herewith  exhibits  a  distant  view  of  it,  but 
no  description  or  representation  can  give  any  ade- 
quate idea  of  the  enchanting  reality ;  we  can  only 
hope  that  our  readers  will  some  day  have  the  plea- 
sure of  beholding  with  their  own  eyes  these  scenes 
so  full  of  grandeur,  and  so  suggestive  of  poetic 
emotions.  But  if  this  privilege  is  denied  them, 
perhaps  they  will  find  in  our  own  country  scenes 
of  grandeur  and  of  novel  beauty  that  are  not  defi- 
cient in  any  thing,  unless  it  be  in  classic  or  historic 
association.  The  northern  part  of  New  Hampshire 
and  Yermont,  the  western  part  of  Massachusetts, 
arid  portions  of  New  York  and  Pennsylvania,  pre- 
sent specimens  of  varied  and  romantic  scenery  that 
are  justly  admired,  and  that  need  only  the  associa- 
tions of  historic  legends  to  make  them  renowned 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


123 


as  any  spot  that  is  frequented  by  the  sight-seers  of 
the  old  world. 

To  the  west  of  Scotland  there  is  a  cluster  of 
islands  with  bleak  and  rugged  surface,  known  as 
the  Western  Islands.  They  are  inhabited  by  a  poor 
class  of  peasants  who  obtain  a  precarious  subsis- 
tence from  the  scanty  soil  and  the  sea. 


ISLE    OP  STAFFA. 

In  this  group  is  the  island  of  Stqffa,  famous  for 
its  basaltic  cavern  called  Fingal's  Cave. 

This  cave  opens  from  the  sea,  and  is  about  42 
feet  wide,  66  feet  high,  and  227  feet  deep.  The 
sides  are  formed  of  columnar  rock,  and  as  the  sea 
never  ebbs  entirely  out,  the  floor  of  this  beautiful 


124 


MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 


cave  is  the  clear  green  water,  which  reflects  from 
its  clear  bottom  the  varying  shades  of  the  rocks, 
and  produces  a  beautiful  effect. 

Imagine  yourself  sailing  into  this  immense  cave, 
that  seems  like  a  pile  of  masonry  built  by  giants, 
and  now  going  to  decay.  It  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
pressive and  interesting  objects  to  be  met  with  in 
Scotland. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  *  125 


ELSIE'S  SUMMER  ADVENTURES. 


THE   SAILING   PARTY. 


T  IZZIE  MORTON  was  a  room-mate  of  Elsie's  at 
JLJ  boarding-school.     She  loves  our  darling  cousin 


126.  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

dearly,  and  though  she  is  much  the  older,  likes  to 
have  Elsie  always  with  her.  She  has  invited  her 
many  times,  but  this  summer  she  came  herself  to 
see  us  all,  and  begged  Uncle  Hiram  to  spare  Elsie 
for  a  little  while  to  go  home  with  her.  Her  sweet 
voice  and  winning  ways  were  powerful  charms,  and 
she  bore  our  little  cousin  off  in  triumph. 

The  journey  was  a  long  one,  and  Elsie  was  half 
asleep,  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  when 
Lizzie  roused  her,  exclaiming,  "  Elsie,  Elsie !  get 
your  bag  ready — here  we  are,  just  stopping  at  the 
last  station,  and  I'm  sure  I  see  brother  Charles  on 
the  platform  1" 

Just  then  the  cars  stopped,  and  a  young  man, 
whom  Lizzie  called  Charles,  came  in  and  welcomed 
her  home. 

"  Is  this  your  friend  Elsie  ?"  asked  he,  kindly 
shaking  the  little  girl's  hand.  "  I  am  very  glad 
you  were  at  last  successful,  and  have  brought  her 
with  you.  We'll  have  fine  times  together  I  prom- 
ise you,  Miss  Elsie." 

All  this  time  he  had  been  taking  up  the  shawls, 
baskets,  and  bags  ;  and  now  giving  his  hand  to 
Elsie,  he  led  her  out  of  the  car,  saying,  "  Lizzie 
knows  the  way,  so  you  are  my  charge." 

When  fairly  seated  in  the  carriage,  Elsie  laid  her 
head  wearily  back,  and  while  the  brother  and  sister 
talked,  she  watched  the  long  rows  of  lights  in  the 
streets,  and  the  brilliantly  illuminated  shop-win- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  127 

dows.  Charles  caught  her  in  his  arms,  when  the 
carriage  stopped,  and  carried  her  up  the  long  path- 
way to  the  house,  where  Mrs.  Morton  was  waiting 
upon  the  steps.  "  Here,  mother,  is  Lizzie's  Elsie, 
tired  as  she  can  be,"  he  exclaimed,  and  putting  her 
gently  down,  ran  back  for  the  bags,  etc.  Elsie  did 
not  know  just  what  to  do  at  this  unceremonious 
treatment.  She  had  always  seemed  older  than  she 
was,  and  her  quiet,  lady-like  manner  led  people  to 
treat  her  not  quite  like  a  child.  It  was  a  long  time 
since  any  one  but  Harry,  or  Uncle  Hiram,  would 
have  thought  of  running  off  with  her  in  his  arms. 
She  had  not  much  time  for  such  thoughts,  for  in  a 
moment  Lizzie  came  running  up  the  steps.  "  Why, 
Elsie,"  she  cried,  "  Charley  spirited  you  off  before 
I  had  time  to  think.  You'll  have  to  get  used  to 
his  queer,  quick  ways,  and  then  you'll  love  him 
dearly." 

"  Will  she,  indeed  ?"  said  Charley,  coming  behind 
his  sister  and  stopping  her  with  a  kiss.  "  You  had 
better  not  stay  here  to  discuss  brother  Charley, 
but  go  in  and  rest,  get  some  tea,  and  go  to  bed. 
It  will  require  at  least  a«day  to  canvass  my  merits." 

Elsie  was  quite  as  tired  as  Charley  supposed,  and 
fell  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  her  head  touched  the 
pillow.  When  she  awoke  the  next  morning,  the 
sun  was  shining  brightly  into  her  window.  She 
sprang  up  immediately,  and  began  to  dress.  In  a 
moment  the  door  opened,  and  Lizzie  looked  in.  "  I 


128  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

thought  I  heard  you  moving,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
just  finished  dressing  myself." 

"  But  it's  very  late,  Lizzie,  is  it  not  ?"  said  Elsie. 
"  Why  did  you  let  me  sleep  so  long  7" 

"  What  a  rueful  face,  Elsie  1"  cried  Lizzie,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  should  think  you  imagined  yourself  at 
boarding-school  again,  trembling  for  fear  of  that 
six  o'clock  bell." 

"Oh,  no,  Lizzie,"  exclaimed  Elsie  ;  "  that's  im- 
possible in  this  very  pretty  room/' 

"  It  isn't  much  like  the  uncarpeted  floors  and 
bare  rooms  we've  been  used  to,  is  it  ?"  said  Lizzie. 
"  This  was  sister  Fanny's  room  before  she  was  mar- 
ried, and  mine  is  just  opposite,  and  our  sitting- 
room  is  between  them.  Oh,  such  a  comfort  as  that 
room  is  !  We  shall  have  such  quiet  times  there  !" 

"But  has  not  the  breakfast  bell  rung?"  asked 
Elsie. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  long  ago  ;  but  I  arranged  that 
with  mother  last  night.  We  are  to  have  breakfast 
together,  whenever  we  want  it,  to-day.  I  knew  we 
should  be  too  sleepy  to  be  punctual." 

Mr.  Morton's  house  overlooked  the  bay,  while 
far,  far  away  one  could  see  the  blue  ocean.  The 
busy  town  streets,  with  their  rows  .of  shops,  the 
wharves,  the  ships,  and  even  the  more  quiet  ave- 
nues, with  their  stately  houses,  were  all  new  to 
Elsie.  She  could  amuse  herself  for  hours,  seated 
in  the  deep  window-seat  of  Lizzie's  sitting-room, 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  129 

watching  the  boats  skimming  hither  and  thither 
over  the  bright  waters  of  the  bay,  or  counting  the 
white  sails  in  the  distance,  as  the  vessels  entered 
or  went  out  of  the  harbor. 

She  was  not  left  much  to  herself,  however.  Liz- 
zie had  numerous  friends,  who  seemed  to  think 
that  no  pic-nic,  sail,  or  party  of  ajiy  kind  could  be 
had  without  her  ;  and  Elsie  was  always  her  com- 
panion. 

"  Girls,"  said  Arthur  one  evening  at  tea,  "  'tis 
proposed  to  go  on  an  island  party  to-morrow,  to 
one  of  the  outside  islands — Kanadeck,  I  believe — 
will  you  go  ?" 

"  I  had  heard  nothing  about  it,"  said  Lizzie. 
"  'Tis  rather  short  notice." 

"  Oh,  'tis  the  young  men's  plan.  They  are  coming 
round  to  invite  every  one  in  form  this  evening. 
We  have  been  making  all  arrangements  this  after- 
noon. It  was  not  thought  of  till  this  morning." 

"  Is  Charley  going  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Morton.  "I  am 
always  afraid  of  these  excursions  on  the  water.  But 
if  he  goes,  I  shall  feel  more  like  trusting  Lizzie  and 
Elsie,  he  knows  so  well  all  the  danger,  and  has  so 
much  skill  in  such  matters." 

"  Here  he  comes,"  said  Arthur,  as  Charles'  light, 
quick  step  was  heard.  "  Of  course  he  is  going. 
Who  ever  heard  of  his  staying  away  from  any  such 
affair." 

Charles  was  going,  of  course.     He  was  on  the 


130  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

committee  of  invitation,  and  could  scarcely  stay  a 
moment,  having  quite  a  large  list  to  invite.  He 
only  came  home  to  tell  Elsie,  that  he  should  in- 
sist on  her  going,  and  claimed  her  as  his  special 
charge. 

"  Well,  Charley  has  settled  the  matter,  I  see," 
said  Mrs.  Morton,  as  he  went  out.  "  I  hope  the 
plan  is,  to  be  at  home  early." 

"  Oh,  mother,  you  are  always  so  afraid  of  the 
water !  Just  think  how  many  excursions  we  have 
taken,  and  never  had  the  least  mishap,"  said  Lizzie. 

"  Yes,  but  you  stay  out  so  late  that  I  am  always 
anxious." 

"I  wish  I  could  promise  you  that  this  party  would 
be  an  improvement  in  that  respect,  mother,"  said 
Arthur  ;  "  but  the  very  charm  of  the  thing  is,  that 
we  are  to  sail  home  by  moonlight." 

"  I  always  hate  to  go  on  such  parties,  and  feel 
that  you  are  in  constant  anxiety,  mother,"  said  Liz- 
zie. "  Perhaps  we  had  better  give  this  up." 

"  No,  indeed,  Lizzie,"  said  Mrs.  Morton.  "  I  see 
Elsie's  face  grow  grave  at  the  very  thought.  No 
doubt  you  will  return  as  safely  as  before.  It  is  a 
constant  fear  of  mine,  and  you  would  never  go,  if  you 
wait  for  me  to  feel  easy  about  it." 

So  it  was  settled  that  they  should  go.  Lizzie 
and  Elsie  went  off  to  prepare  their  island  attire — 
for  they  were  to  start  early  in  the  morning — and 
Arthur  remembered  that  he  still  had  some  arrange- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  131 

ments  to  make,  being  one  of  the  committee  on  re- 
freshments. 

The  ftm  rose  bright  and  beautiful.  Lizzie  and 
Elsie  were  ready  in  good  season.  The  boats  were 
to  start  from  a  private  pier,  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  town,  quite  near  Mr.  Morton's,  so  that  most  of 
the  party  could  easily  walk  to  it. 

The  pier  presented  a  busy,  gay  scene  as  they  ap- 
proached. Several  boats  were  in  wraiting  j  some 
fifty  or  sixty  gentlemen  and  ladies  were  gathered 
in  groups  on  the  shore.  Such  an  array  of  shawls, 
baskets,  hampers,  and  eatables  of  all  sorts,  in  every 
imaginable  sha,pe,  were  never  seen  before. 

It  took  some  time  to  load  the  boats,  with  passen- 
gers and  freight  in  due  proportion.  At  length  all 
was  done,  and  the  last  boat  left  the  pier  under  the 
guidance  of  Charles  Morton. 

It  was  quite  a  mixed  company.  A  very  few  were 
young  as  Elsie  ;  for  some  whole  families,  father,  mo- 
ther, and  children  were  there — so  that  every  one 
had  choice  of  companions. 

The  sail  was  delightful.  The  bay  was  smooth  as 
glass,  and  when  they  reached  the  islands  that  skirt- 
ed it,  and  wound  in  and  out  between  them,  the  scene 
was  varied  and  charming.  Sometimes  the  boats 
were  near  enough  to  each  other  for  conversation, 
and  sometimes  the  foremost  ones  would  disappear 
behind  a  jutting  point,  and  be  lost  entirely  to  sight. 
At  last  the  island  of  their  destination  appeared  ID 
view,  and  beyond,  the  broad,  unbroken  ocean. 


132 


MERRYS      BOOK     OP 


A  difficulty  now  arose.  The  water  near  the  shore 
was  too  shallow  for  the  boats  to  approach,  and 
there  was  no  place  where  the  party  could  land  with- 
out running  the  risk  of  a  wetting. 


DIAMOND    COVE. 

u  There  is  'Diamond  Cove7  on  the  other  side  of 
this  island,"  said  Charley  Morton.  "  I  propose  we 
try  there,  perhaps  we  can  get  nearer  the  shore." 

No  sooner  said  than  done,  and  every  voice  was 
raised  in  exclamations  of  delight,  as  rounding  the 
weather-beaten  cliffs  of  "  White  Head"  they  shot 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  133 

The  water,  clear  as  crystal,  re- 
vealed every  treasure  of  its  glassy  depths,  and  the 
pebbles  on  the  bottom  glittered  like  diamonds. 
Two  high,  rocky  headlands  guarded  the  entrance 
to  the  bay,  while  within  the  green  shores  sloped 
gradually  downward  to  a  white  sandy  beach. 

But  amid  all  these  beauties,  the  attention  of 
all  the  party  was  fixed  on  the  distant  shore.  The 
woods  seemed  alive  with  wild,  fantastic  figures, 
dancing,  running,  leaping,  screaming,  making  the 
old  woods  ring  with  their  shouts.  It  was  an  Indian 
encampment. 

"  I  declare,"  exclaimed  Arthur  Morton,  "  the  In- 
dians are  beforehand  with  us  !  How  long  do  you 
think  they  have  been  here,  Charley  ?" 

"  Not  long  ;  for  I  was  here  last  week,"  answered 
his  brother.  "  They  have  chosen  a  beautiful  place 
for  their  summer  home,  and  I  think  we  shall  have 
to  make  them  useful." 

So  saying,  he  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  and  with  a 
motion  of  his  hand  signified  to  the  Indians  that  he 
wished  their  help  in  getting  on  shore. 

At  the  first  appearance  of  the  boats  the  revelry 
on  shore  had  ceased.  The  women  and  children 
had  disappeared  in  the  deeper  shade  of  the  woods, 
while  many  of  the  men  were  watching  the  approach 
of  the  new  comers. 

At  Charley's  signal,  two  stalwart,  fierce-looking 
men  hastened  to  the  shore,  each  with  a  canoe  on 


134 


MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 


his  head,  which  he  launched  and  paddled  to  the 
boats.  As  they  drew  near,  Charles  whispered  to 
the  company  that  he  knew  the  foremost  man,  as 
chieftain  of  a  tribe  which  often  made  the  islands 
their  summer  home,  and  enjoined  on  all  to  treat 
him  with  respect. 


Though  half  afraid,  Elsie  could  not  help  watching 
the  chief  with  the  greatest  interest.     He  was  a 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  135 

noble  Indian.  A  blanket  of  various  colors  hung 
over  one  shoulder — the  other,  with  his  breast  being 
bare,  and  ornamented  with  wampum  strings,  a 
huge  steel  plate,  like  a  buckler,  and  many  little 
charms.  His  beaded  belt  and  gaudy  moccasins, 
with  the  single  lock  of  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
woven  with  a  few  showy  feathers  into  a  tuft  five 
or  six  inches  high,  distinguished  him  from  the  rest 
of  the  tribe. 

"  Ah  !  Miannotto,"  said  Charles  Morton,  "  we  are 
in  trouble  ;  can  you  land  us  on  shore  ?" 

"  Ugh,"  replied  the  Indian,  "  me  take  squaw  safe." 

Now  as  these  canoes  are  light  as  cork  and  very 
easily  upset,  it  requires  great  skill  to  manage  them, 
and  perfect  quietness  on  the  part  of  the  passengers. 
The  ladies  were  about  to  shrink  from  trusting 
themselves  in  the  frail  boat  alone  ;  but  Charles 
courteously  accepted  the  kind  offer  of  the  Indian, 
and  immediately  proposed  that  Lizzie  should  go 
first  with  her  brother  Arthur. 

'•  No,  no,"  replied  Miannotto,  "  squaw  first ;"  and 
motioning  Arthur  back,  signed  to  Elsie  to  take  her 
place  by  Lizzie  ;  then,  telling  them  to  be  still,  very 
still  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  lie  pushed  off  to 
the  shore,  and  in  a  moment  the  two  girls  were 
standing  alone  on  the  beach.  The  other  canoe 
soon  brought  them  company  ;  but  not  one  man 
would  the  Indians  take,  until  all  the  ladies  were 
landed.  This  was  Indian  gallantry. 


136  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

Besides  the  two  Indians  who  thus  assisted'  our 
party,  not  one  of  the  tribe,  male  or  female,  came 
down  to  the  shore  to  meet  them. 

As  many  of  the  party  had  never  seen  an  encamp- 
ment before,  the  first  thing  was  to  pay  a  visit  to 
the  wigwams.  Charles  took  Elsie  by  the  hand,  and 
then,  offering  his  arm  to  Lizzie,  led  them  round  the 
encampment.  On  a  fallen  tree  near  by,  sat  two 
women,  one  a  very  beautiful  girl  about  sixteen. 
She  said  her  name  was  Margaret.  A  white  lady, 
some  years  before,  had  visited  the  tribe,  and  given 
her  many  presents,  and  this  name.  Her  Indian 
name  was  Netoka.  She  was  busily  working  a 
basket  of  porcupine  quills.  Elsie  lost  all  fear  in 
the  presence  of  this  gentle  girl,  and  seating  herself 
beside  her,  tried  to  learn  how  the  work  was  done, 
which  pleased  Netoka  so  much  that  she  gave  Elsie 
a  little  box  which  she  had  just  finished,  while 
Charles  engaged  to  buy  the  basket  for  his  mother, 
as  soon  as  it  was  ready. 

At  length  all  the  party,  who  were  strolling  in 
separate  groups  over  the  island,  were  reminded, 
by  a  long  bugle  note,  that  dinner-time  had  arrived. 
Preparations  had  been  made  for  a  sumptuous  re- 
past. A  large  rock,  flat  and  smooth,  served  for  a 
table,  whereon  appeared  a  rich  variety  of  inviting- 
things.  In  the  centre  was  the  indispensable  chow- 
der, made  of  fish  just  caught  from  the  rocks,  and 
cooked  on  the  spot.  There  were  not  half  plates 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  137 

enoilgh,  to  be  sure,  but  their  place  was  well  sup- 
plied by  clam-shells,  large  leaves,  or  pieces  of  slaty 
rock. 

It  was  a  merry  scene  and  a  joyous  feast.  There 
had  been  enough  of  exertion  during  the  day  to  in- 
stire  a  good  appetite  to  all,  and  they  did  ample 
justice  to  the  off-hand  cookery.  After  dinner, 
while  some  were  appointed  to  dispose  of  the  frag- 
ments, and  pack  the  baskets,  others  threw  them- 
selves on-  the  grass  in  little  groups,  telling  stories, 
singing  songs,  and  forgetting  everything  else  in 
the  pleasure  of  the  moment. 

Suddenly  they  were  startled  by  a  loud  peal  of 
thunder.  "  We  shall  have  a  storm,"  cried  one  ; 
"  can  we  get  home  first  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Charles  Morton,  the  sailor  ot 
the  party  ;  "  don't  you  see  it  coming  ?"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  black  cloud  which  was  hurrying  to- 
ward them. 

"  Perhaps  it  will  be  only  a  squall,  and  if  we  have 
bright  moonlight  after  it,  we  shall  not  mind,"  said 
one. 

"  But  how  escape  drenching  here  ?"  asked  an- 
other. 

"  Go  back  to  the  Indians  ;  and  the  ladies,  at 
least,  can  be  sheltered  in  the  wigwams,  or  under 
the  canoes,"  was  Arthur's  proposition. 

Instantly  every  one  was  on  the  move.  The  In- 
dians received  this  sudden  addition  to  their  house- 


138  ME  BET'S   BOOK    OF 

hold  as  silently  and  indifferently  as  they  did  every 
thing  else  ;  but  they  quietly  gave  shelter  to  every 
one,  and  that  was  all  that  was  asked. 

The  storm  passed  without  doing  any  harm  to  the 
party  on  the  island,  but  it  was  followed  by  a  dense 
fog,  so  common  to  the  coast,  and  it  was  evidently 
impossible  to  attempt  going  home  while  that  lasted. 

"  What  shall  be  done  ?"  asked  Charles  Morton, 
when  he  had  assembled  the  whole  company  for  a 
consultation.  "  I  am  fairly  puzzled.  This  is  more 
than  I  bargained  for — to  provide  house  and  home 
for  so  many." 

"  What  has  become  of  old  Joe  Barker's  fishing 
boat  ?''  asked  his  brother  ;  "was  it  on  this  island  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  was,"  said  Charles  ;  "  we  must  ex- 
plore the  whole  island,  and  see  what  we  can  find." 

"  While  you  are  looking  up  huts,  we  will  go  out 
to  the  boats  and  bring  back  the  sails,  and  such 
other  things  as  we  need  ;  perhaps  we  can  manage 
to  make  a  hut  for  ourselves." 

Charles  soon  returned.  He  had  found  the  hut 
in  pretty  good  preservation,  and  was  sure  that  the 
girls  could  make  it  quite  comfortable  with  shawls 
and  cloaks,  for  our  island  parties  are  always  pre- 
pared for  a  change  of  weather.  He  piloted  the  par- 
ty through  the  woods  to  the  old  hut.  It  was  of  the 
rudest  kind,  but  still  a  most  welcome  shelter.  A 
large  fire  was  burning  in  front  of  the  door,  by 
which  the  new  quarters  were  soon  made  dry  and 


TEAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


139 


cheerful.  Those  who  could  not  find  room  in  the 
hut  spread  a  large  sail  on  the  ground,  and  hung  an- 
other over  it  for  a  roof.  Shawls  pinned  to  the 
sides,  served  for  walls,  and  the  tent  was  complete. 


THE   SAFE   RETURN. 

Thus  snugly  quartered,  Lizzie  proposed  that  the 


140  MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 

ladies  should  prepare  tea.  The  remains  of  the  din- 
ner were  unpacked,  put  in  fine  order,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  tables  and  chairs,  passed  round  to  the 
party,  all  of  whom  Were  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  their  novel  and  amusing  predicament. 

There  was  very  little  sleeping,  of  course,  that 
night.  The  watch-fire  burned  brightly,  and  stories, 
songs,  and  pleasant  talk  filled  up  the  swift  hours 
till  the  dawn. 

Meanwhile,  all  was  anxiety  in  the  town.  Every 
one  knew  that  it  was  impossible  to  navigate  the 
narrow,  crooked  passes  among  the  islands  in  such 
a  fog.  Had  the  party  started  before  the  fog  appear- 
ed ?  that  was  the  question.  Poor  Mrs.  Morton  could 
not  sleep  for  anxiety,  and  the  moment  it  was  light  she 
was  up  watching  the  bay  and  the  distant  islands. 
At  length  eager  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
returning  party,  and  assure  themselves  of  their  safe- 
ty, she  and  her  husband,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burton, 
drove  over  to  the  Cape.  Here,  on  the  high  cliffs, 
they  had  a  full  view  of  bay  and  islands.  They  had 
not  been  there  long  ere  the  boats  appeared,  one 
after  the  other,  skimming  swiftly  over  the  waves. 
Mr.  Morton  raised  his  handkerchief  on  his  cane,  and 
waved  it  toward  the  boats.  The  signal  was  seen 
and  answered  by  a  loud  cheer  ;  and  then,  clamber- 
ing down  the  rocks  the  watchers  drove  rapidly 
homeward. 

"  There  is  no  harm  done,  only  a  little  famine  in 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  141 

the  camp,"  was  Charles  Morton's  only  answer  to 
the  many  inquiries  put  to  him.  "  Bring  on  the 
breakfast,  and  please  remember  hungry,  men  are 
not  very  amiable." 

No  one  suffered  from  the  unusual  exposure  ;  but 
whenever  an  island  party  is  proposed,  some  one  is 
sure  to  say,  "  Yes,  yes,  if  we  only  could  stay  all 
night,  and  be  sure  to  have  as  pleasant  a  time  as  at 
Diamond  Cove." 

Elsie  thinks  this  one  of  the  most  remarkable  ad- 
ventures of  her  summer's  visit,  and  I  hope  the  Mer- 
ry family  will  be  as  much  interested  in  reading  it, 
as  we  all  were  when  she  told  it  to  us. 


142 


MERRY'S  BOOK  OP 


ADYENTUEE  OF  A  DOG. 


JERRY. 


ff  TERRY"  is  a  general  favorite  in  and  around 
J  his  native  city,  Nevada,  and  although  he 
signifies  his  appreciation  of  pats  or  words  of  kind- 
ness by  a  gentle  wagging  of  his  tail,  he  neither  fol- 
lows nor  obeys  any  one  but  his  master. 

The  first  time  we  saw  him,  Mr.  Dawley  request- 
ed him  to  shut  the  door — which  was  wide  open, 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  143 

and  against  the  wall — when  he  immediately  put  his 
nose  behind  it,  and  closed  it ;  but  as  it  did  not 
"  catch,"  he  raised  upon  his  hind  legs,  and  threw 
the  whole  weight  of  his  body  against  it,  and  thus 
effectually  shut  it. 

"  Go,  sit  down  there,  Jerry,"  said  his  master  ; 
and  he  immediately  went  to  the  spot  indicated  and 
sat  down.  "  Sit  up,  Jerry,"  and  up  he  sat.  "  Stand 
up,  Jerry,  and  come  to  me  ;"  and  what  appeared 
to  us  as  very  singular,  he  arose  from  his  sitting 
posture  and  stood  erect  upon  his  hind  feet,  and 
then  walked  in  an  erect  position  to  his  master. 

"  Lie  down  and  die,  Jerry."  He  immediately  lay 
down  at  his  master;s  feet,  and  closed  his  eyes,  and 
appeared  like  one  dead  ;  when  Mr.  D.  slipped  his 
right  hand  under  one  side,  and  his  left  under  the 
other,  about  his  middle,  as  he  lay  upon  the  floor, 
to  lift  him  up  ;  and  the  dog  did  not  move  a  muscle 
or  a  limb,  but  his  body  hung  down  as  helplessly  as 
though  he  were  really  dead. 

"  Up,  Jerry,"  and  he  soon  let  us  know  that  he 
was  worth  a  dozen  dead  dogs.  "  Take  a  chair,  Jer- 
ry," and  he  was  soon  seated  in  the  only  vacant 
chair  in  the  room.  "  Now,  wink  one  eye,  Jerry," 
and  one  eye  was  accordingly  "winked"  without  cer- 
emony. Jerry,  however,  did  not  enlighten  us  upon 
the  subject  of  having  practiced  this  ungentlemanly 
habit,  when  passing  some  of  his  canine  lady  friends 
in  the  public  streets  I  but  perhaps  thinking  that 


144  MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 

this  might  be  used  to  criminate  himself,  he  only 
wagged  his  tail  by  way  of  answer,  which  simply 
meant  either  yes  or  no — just  as  we  pleased — to  our 
interrogations. 

He  used  to  be  very  fond  of  these  amusements, 
until  he  saw  a  little  quarrelsome  dog,  against  whom 
he  had  taken  a  dislike,  practicing  the  same  tricks, 
when  he  evidently  became  disgusted,  and  very  re- 
luctantly obeyed  his  master  for  some  time  after- 
ward. 

Mr.  Dawley  is  the  owner  of  some  mining  claims 
on  Wet  Hill,  and  resides  near  them  ;  and  as  they 
are  worked  both  day  and  night,  whenever  the  time 
arrives  to  "  change  the  watch,"  he  will  say  to  the 
dog,  "  Jerry,  go  and  call  Ben"  (or  any  one  else,  as 
the  case  may  be,  for  he  knows  every  one  of  their 
names  distinctly,)  when  he  immediately  goes  to  the 
cabin  door  of  the  man  wanted,  which  is  left  a  little 
ajar,  opens  it,  and  commences  pulling  off  the  bed- 
clothing  ;  and  if  this  does  not  awake  the  sleeper, 
he  jumps  upon  the  bed  and  barks,  until  he  succeeds 
in  his  undertaking. 

If  a  candle  goes  out,  in  the  tunnel,  it  is  placed  in 
his  mouth,  as  shown  in  the  engraving,  and  he  goes 
to  the  man  named,  to  get  it  re-lighted. 

About  a  year  ago,  when  they  were  running  their 
tunnel,  he  would  lie  down  at  the  entrance,  and  al- 
low no  stranger  to  enter,  without  the  consent  of 
his  master  ;  but  when  told  by  him  that  it  was  all 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  145 

t 

right,  lie  not  only  appeared  pleased,  but  barked  at 
a  candle  that  was  sticking  in  the  side  of  the  tunnel, 
when  his  master  lighted  it,  placed  it  in  his  mouth, 
and  said  to  him,  "  Show  this  gentleman  the  dig- 
gings, Jerry,"  and  he  directly  started,  with  his 
lighted  candle,  and  led  the  way  into  every  drift. 

There  is  a  shaft  to  the  diggings,  something  over 
two  hundred  feet  in  depth,  and  should  he  want  to 
go  down  at«any  time,  which  he  often  does,  he  goes 
to  the  top,  and,  on  finding  the  dirt  bucket  up,  will 
without  hesitation  jump  in,  entirely  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, and  descend  to  the  bottom. 

Mr.  Chambers,  an  inmate  of  the  cabin  in  which 
Jerry  was  raised,  and  who  knew  him  from  a  pup, 
entered  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  coat,  but  when 
he  took  hold  of  it,  the  dog  began  to  growl,  and 
would  not  permit  him  to  take  it  out,  in  the  absencp 
of  his  master,  and  he  had,  after  considerable  coax- 
ing, to  leave  without  it.  He  allows  the  washerman 
to  enter  the  cabin  on  a  Saturday,  with  the  clean 
clothes,  but  as  the  man  takes  one  chair,  he  imme- 
diately takes  another  chair  opposite,  and  sits  watch- 
ing him  until  his  master  enters  ;  nor  will  he  by 
any  means  allow  him  to  take  away  again,  even  the 
clothes  he  brought  with  him. 

If  men  are  sitting  and  conversing  in  the  cabin, 
he  will  take  a  chair  with  the  rest,  and,  what  is 
somewhat  remarkable,  he  always  turns  his  head, 
and  keeps  looking  at  the  one  who  is  speaking,  as 


146  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 

though  paying  the  utmost  attention.  We  might 
suggest  an  imitation  of  Jerry's  good  manners  to 
older  heads  than  his,  with  much  less  sense  within 
them — especially  when  present  in  a  church  or  lec- 
ture room — but  we  forbear,  except  to  ask,  that 
whenever  they  become  listless  at  such  times  and  in 
such  places,  they  always  think  of  "  Jerry  1" 

Jerry,  too,  is  "  general  carrier"  for  his  master, 
and  goes  to  town  each  morning  for  the  daily  papers. 
On  one  occasion  he  was  carrying  home  some  meat, 
when  a  much  larger  dog  than  he  sallied  out  upon 
him,  to  try  to  steal  it  from  him,  but  he  took  no  no- 
tice of  him,  except  to  keep  his  tail  near  the  enemy, 
and  his  head  (with  the  meat)  as  far  away  as  possi- 
ble ;  but  when  the  large  dog  supposed  Jerry  to  be 
somewhat  off  his  guard,  he  made  a  sudden  though 
unsuccessful  spring  at  the  meat,  when  Jerry,  as  if 
struck  with  a  new  idea,  immediately  started  home 
as  fast  as  possible  ;  and  after  he  had  deposited  it 
safely  in  the  cabin,  he  returned  to  town,  and  gave 
his  thieving-disposed  brother  a  good  sound  whip- 
ping ;  now,  the  enemy  has  a  great  preference  for 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street  whenever  he  sees 
Jerry  coming  up. 

Whenever  his  master  goes  to  town,  the  dog 
stands  watching  him  at  the  door,  and  never  at- 
tempts to  accompany  him,  without  a  look  or  .a  nod 
of  acquiescence.  If  Mr.  D.  purchases  a  pair  of 
pants;  or  gloves,  or  anything  else,  immediately 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  147 

% 

after  arriving  in  town,  he  will  say  to  him,  "  Jerry, 
you  see  these  are  mine,"  and  place  them  on  one 
side  ;  and  after  remaining  an  hour  or  two  in  town, 
and  going  to  different  places — sometimes  to  the 
theater — he  says,  "  Jerry,  I  guess  I'll  go  home 
now,"  when  the  dog  starts  off  directly  for  the  par- 
cel left,  arid  appears  with  it  in  his  mouth,  wagging 
his  tail,  as  much  as  to  say  :  "  Here  we  are — is  this 
right  ?"  He  always  remembers  very  correctly 
where  it  was  left  for  him. 

About  noon,  on  Saturday  last,  his  master  said  to 
him  :  "  Jerry,  I  don't  want  you  to  go  with  me  this 
afternoon,  as  Mrs.  Houston  wishes  you  to  go  to 
town  with  her  ;"  when  he  lay  quietly  down,  and 
never  attempted  to  move,  as  he  generally  does,  to 
accompany  his  master  to  his  work.  He  waited 
very  patiently  until  Mrs.  H.  was  putting  on  her 
bonnet,  when,  taking  up  a  small  parcel  which  he 
had  seen  her  place  upon  a  chair,  he  waited  with  it 
in  his  mouth  until  she  was  ready  to  go,  and  then  fol- 
lowed her  down.  When  in  town,  Mrs.  H.  bought 
a  bonnet  box,  about  fifteen  inches  square,  with  a 
handle  on  top,  and  said  to  him  :  "  Jerry,  I  want 
that  carried  home,"  when  he  took  the  handle  in 
his  mouth,  to  try  to  carry  it ;  but  as  it  extended  up 
to  bis  breast,  and  prevented  his  taking  his  usual 
step,  he  set  it  down  again,  when  she  said  :  "  Never 
mind,  Jerry,  if  that  is  to$  much  for  you,  I  will  send 
for  it  ;"  he  immediately  took  it  up,  and  although  he 


* 

148  MERRY'S.  BOOK   OP 

f 

could  not  lift  it  more  than  two  inches  from  the 

ground,  he  carried  it  all  the  way  home  for  her. 

He  will  lift  at  a  sack  of  gold  dust  until  his  hind 
feet  are  both  several  inches  from  the  floor.  If  sent 
to  a  store  across  the  street  for  a  jug  of  liquor,  and 
he  can  not  carry  it,  he  will  be  sure  to  drag  it  over 
— if  at  all  possible — and  never  mistakes  an  empty 
one  for  a  full  one.  When  his  master  asks  him  to 
fetch  his  socks,  or  his  boots,  or  his  hat,  or  coat,  or 
anything  else,  he  never  gets  the  wrong  article,  as 
he  has  a  good  memory  to  remember  the  names  of 
everything  told  him. 

To  see  what  he  would  do,  several  men,  with  his 
master's  consent,  tied  a  string  and  pan  to  his  tail, 
but  instead  of  running  off  as  most  dogs  would,  he 
turned  and  bit  the  string  in  two  ;  then  took  hold 
of  the  string  and  dragged  the  pan  along.  He  will 
go  up  and  down  a  ladder  by  himself.  If  several 
men  are  in  the  cabin,  and  his  master  on  going  out 
should  tell  him  not  to  leave  it,  all  of  them  com- 
bined would  not  be  able  to  coax  him  out. 

He  is  very  fond  of  music,  and  will  walk  about  for 
hours,  wagging  his  tail,  whenever  Mr.  Curtis  (a 
miner  living  in  the  same  cabin)  plays  upon  the  ban- 
jo ;  and  sometimes  he  would  run  around,  catching 
at  his  tail,  and  barking  when  the  music  ceased. 

"  Jerry"  has  more  friends  than  any  man  in  town, 
as  everybody  likes  him  fof  his  good-natured  eccen- 
tricities, intelligence,  and  amusing  performances. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  149 

He  sleeps  at  night  in  an  arm-chair  near  his  master's 
head,  and  seems  to  love  and  watch  over  him  with 
the  utmost  fondness  and  solicitude.  If,  however,  the 
blanket  upon  which  he  sleeps  is  thrown  carelessly 
into  the  chair  at  night,  or  is  not  perfectly  straight 
and  smooth,  he  will  not  attempt  £o  occupy  it  until 
it  is  made  all  right. 

Many,  very  many  other  performances  of  interest 
could  be  related,  such  as  picking  up  money  and 
carrying  it  to  his  master  ;  catching  paper  in  his 
mouth  if  placed  upon  his  nose  ;  taking  off  his  own 
collar  ;  unfastening  ropes  with  his  teeth  ;  jumping 
over  chairs  ;  carrying  away  his  master's  gloves  on 
Saturday  night  and  returning  them  on  Monday 
morning  ;  standing  in  any  position  told  him  ;  fetch- 
ing anything  asked  for,  etc.,  etc.,  almost  ad  infini- 
tum.  But  we  think  that  we  have  said  sufficient  to 
prove  that  Jerry  is  an  intelligent  dog  ;  and  yet 
some  persons,  with  more  vanity  than  veneration, 
will  persist  in  believing  that  God's  works  are  not 
as  perfect  and  as  beautiful  as  they  are,  by  asserting 
that  "  dogs  have  no  souls,"  while  they  admit  them 
to  possess  all  the  attributes  of  intelligence — except 
in  the  same  degree — as  those  found  in  men  ;  and 
we  must  say  that  we  have  witnessed  more  true  no- 
bility of  mind  in  some  dogs  than  we  have  in  some 
men. 


150 


MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 


THE  GLADIATORS. 


LADIATORS  were  combatants  who  fought  at 
the  public  games  in  Rome,  for  the  entertain- 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  151 

ment  of  the  spectators.  They  were  at  first  prison- 
ers, slaves,  or  condemned  criminals,  but  afterwards 
freemen  fought  in  the  arena,  either  for  hire  or  from 
choice.  The  regular  gladiators  were  instructed  in 
schools  intended  for  this  purpose.  Overseers  of 
this  school  purchased  the  gladiators  and  maintained 
them.  They  were  hired  of  him  by  those  who  wish- 
ed to  exhibit  games  to  the  people.  The  games 
were  commenced  by  aprcelusio,  in  which  they  fought 
with  weapons  of  wood,  till,  upon  a  signal,  they  as- 
sumed their  arms,  and  began  in  earnest  to  fight  in 
pairs.  In  case  the  vanquished  was  not  killed  in 
the  combat,  his  fate  was  decided  by  the  people.  If 
they  decreed  his  death,  the  thumb  was  held  up  in  the 
air  ;  the  opposite  motion  was  a  signal  to  save  him. 
In  general,  the  doomed  gladiator  suffered  death 
with  wonderful  firmness,  and  often  heroically  bared 
his  bosom  to  the  death  blow.  If  he  wished  to  ap- 
peal to  the  people,  he  raised  his  hand.  When  a 
gladiator  was  killed  in  the  arena,  attendants  appoint- 
ed for  the  purpose,  dragged  the  body  with  iron 
hooks  into  a  room  prepared  for  this  use.  The  vic- 
tors received  a  branch  of  palm  or  a  palm  garland. 
They  were  often  released  from  further  servitude, 
and  as  a  badge  of  freedom,  received  a  wooden 
sword. 

We  can  readily  conceive  that  when  brought  to 
the  dread  conflict  in  which  the  alternative  before 
them  was  an  ignominious  slaughter  or  a  life  of  free- 


152  MERRY'S    BOOK    o> 

dom,  they  would  fight  with  a  desperate  courage, 
and  perform  almost  superhuman  feats  of  strength 
and  skill.  They  often  were  captives,  that  by  the 
chances  of  war  had  been  torn  from  home  and  friends 
and  country,  and  all  that  is  dear  in  life,  and  on  the 
fate  of  this  one  struggle  depended  all  of  hope  and 
happiness  that  this  world  held  out  to  them. 

But  it  not  unfrequently  happened  that  captives 
from  the  same  country — friends,  relations,  brothers 
— by  the  merciless  decree  of  their  cruel  captors, 
were  arrayed  in  this  death  struggle  against  each 
other.  Those  who  had  been  companions  in  youth, 
companions  in  war,  and  in  defeat,  who  had  lived 
and  loved  together,  were  doomed  to  fight  against 
each  other,  to  gratify  the  imperious  and  cruel  taste 
of  spectators  more  degraded  and  far  more  depraved 
than  the  poor  slaves  that  were  sacrificed  to  gratify 
their  morbid  desires. 

The  history  of  humanity  impresses  us  with  this 
truth,  that  the  human  character  is  made  up  of 
strange  contrasts  and  inconsistencies.  It  seems 
strange,  and  almost  incredible  to  us,  that  a  people 
like  the  Romans,  so  cultivated  in  their  literature, 
and  so  far  advanced  in  civilization,  and  so  exalted 
in  many  of  their  attributes,  should  yet  cherish  the 
sanguinary  and  cruel  spirit  that  could  find  amuse- 
ment and  pleasure  in  the  barbarities  of  a  gladiato- 
rial struggle,  should  delight  in  the  flow  of  human 
blood,  and  in  the  merciless  sacrifice  of  one  who 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  153 

fought  for  dear  life,  and  perhaps  for  wife,  and  home 
and  children,  yet  such  is  the  fact.  Gladiatorial 
combats  were  reserved  for  feast-days  and  occasions 
of  special  joy.  They  were  patronized  and  paid  for 
by  the  opulent  and  titled — the  very  elite  of  the 
realm.  Handsome  ladies,  arrayed  in  their  costly 
attires,  and  decked  with  jewels  of  untold  wealth, 
found  a  pleasure  in  the  excitements  of  the  death 
struggle  between  the  poor  combatants.  Were  these 
persons  devoid  of  sensibility  ?  No  ;  there  were 
many  of.them  endowed  with  noble  natures.  They 
were  kind  and  sympathizing  ;  they  loved  as  mo- 
thers and  sisters.  Then  how  can  we  account  for 
this  strange,  this  cruel  taste  ?  It  was  the  effect  of 
education.  Many  enormities  were  tolerated  in  past 
ages,  which  are  now  no  more.  We  do  not  believe 
the  world  is  growing  worse,  but  better  ;  and  we 
have  reason  to  be  grateful  that  we  live  in  these 
later  times. 


154 


MERRY'S  BOOK  OF 


THE  FOUR  HENRYS. 


;NE  night  when  the  rain  fell 
in  torrents,  an  old  woman,  re- 
nowned for  sorcery,  who  lived 
in  a  poor  cabin  in  the  forest  of 
Saint  Germain,  heard  a  knocking 
at  the  door.  She  opened  it,  and 
beheld  a  cavalier,  who  entreated 
i  her  hospitality.  She  put  his  horse 
in  the  barn  arid  bade  him  enter.  By  the  light  of 
a  smoking  lamp  she  saw  that  he  was  a  young  no- 
bleman. His  figure  betrayed  his  youth,  and  his 
dress  his  rank.  The  old  woman  kindled  a  fire,  and 
inquired  whether  he  wished  anything  to  eat.  A 
stomach  sixteen  years  old  is  like  a  heart  of  the 
same  age,  very  greedy,  and  little  squeamish.  The 
young  man  eagerly  accepted  her  offer.  A  scrap  of 
cheese  and  a  morsel  of  black  bread  came  out  of  the 
trough — it  was  the  old  woman's  entire  store. 

"  I  have  nothing  more,"  said  she  to  the  young 
nobleman.  "  There  is  all  that  the  tithes,  the  rents, 
and  the  salt  tax,  leave  me  to  offer  to  poor  travel- 
ers ;  not  counting  that  the  peasants  in  the  neigh- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  155 

borhood  say  I  am  a  sorceress  and  in  league  with 
the  devil,  that  they  may  steal  the  produce  of  my 
poor  field  with  a  clear  conscience." 

"  Pardieu  !"  said  the  noble,  "  if  ever  I  become 
king  of  France,  I  will  suppress  the  taxes,  and  in- 
struct the  people." 

"  May  God  hear  you,"  said  the  dame. 

As  she  spoke,  the  nobleman  approached  the  table 
to  partake  of  the  slender  fare,  but  at  the  same  mo- 
ment a  new  knocking  at  the  door  interrupted  him. 
The  old  woman  opened  it  and  saw  another  cavalier, 
drenched  with  the  rain,  who  entreated  for  admis- 
sion. It  was  granted  him,  and,  having  entered,  he 
showed  himself  to  be  a  young  man  of  high  rank. 

"  Is  it  you,  Henry  ?"  said  the  first. 

"  Yes,  Henry,"  replied  the  other. 

Both  were  named  Henry.  -The  old  woman  learn- 
ed from  their  conversation  that  they  belonged  to  a 
large  hunting  party,  led  by  King  Charles  IX.,  which 
the  storm  had  dispersed. 

"  Old  woman,"  said  the  newcomer,  "  have  you 
nothing  else  to  give  us  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  replied  she. 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  we  will  divide  what  is  before 
us.;' 

The  first  Henry  made  a  wry  face,  but  observing 
the  resolute  eye  and  vigorous  bearing  of  the  second 
Henry,  he  said  in  a  vexed  tone, 

"  Divide  then  !" 


156  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

A  thought  occurred  as  he  said  this,  which  he  did 
not  express. 

"  Share  with  him  lest  he  take  the  whole." 

They  sat  opposite  each  other,  and  one  of  them 
had  already  cut  the  bread  with  his  dagger,  when  a 
third  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  The  meeting 
was  singular  ;  'twas  another  nobleman,  another 
young  man,  another  Henry.  The  old  woman  be- 
held them  with  astonishment.  The  first  wished  to 
hide  the  bread  and  cheese,  the  second  replaced 
them  on  the  table,  and  laid  his  sword  by  their 
side. 

The  third  Henry  smiled. 

"  You  don't  wish  to  give  me  any  of  your  supper 
then  ?"  said  he  ;  .  "  I  can  wait,  I  have  a  good 
stomach." 

"  The  supper,"  said  -the  first  Henry,  "  belongs  by 
right  to  the  first  comer." 

"  The  supper,"  said  the  second,  "  belongs  to  him 
who  can  best  defend  it." 

The  third  Henry  colored  with  anger,  and  said 
fiercely  : 

"Perhaps  it  belongs  to  him  who  best  obtains 
it." 

Scarcely  were  these  words  uttered,  when  the  first 
Henry  drew  his  dagger,  and  the  others  their  swords. 
As  they  were  about  coming  to  blows,  a  fourth 
knock  was  heard,  a  fourth  young  man,  a  fourth  no- 
bleman, a  fourth  Henry  appeared.  At  the  sight 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  157 

of  the  naked  swords,  he  drew  his  own,  placed  him- 
self on  the  weaker  side,  and  fought  rashly. 

The  old  woman,  terrified,  hid  herself,  and  the 
swords  went  clashing  and  shattering  everything 
that  met  them  in  the  way.  The  lamp  fell  down, 
went  out,  and  they  struck  in  the  dark.  The  clash 
of  steel  lasted  for  some  time,  then  gradually  it  grew 
fainter,  and  at  last  suddenly  ceasedx 

Then  the  old  woman  ventured  out  of  her  hiding- 
place,  relit  the  lamp,  and  found  the  four  young 
men  stretched  out  on  the  earth,  each  with  a  wound. 
She  examined  them  ;  fatigue,  rather  than  the  loss 
of  blood,  had  overthrown  them.  They  raised  them- 
selves one  after  the  other,  and  ashamed  of  what 
had  happened,  they  laughed  and  said  : 

"  Come,  let  us  sup  peaceably  and  without  any 
more  discord." 

But  when  they  looked  for  the  supper,  it  was  on 
the  ground,  trampled  under  foot,  and  soiled  with 
blood.  Slight  as  it  was  they  regretted  it.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  cabin  was  torn  down,  and  the  old 
woman,  seated  in  a  corner,  fixed  her  tawny  eyes  on 
the  four  young  men. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  us  ?"  said  the  first  Henry, 
disturbed  by  her  unfaltering  gaze. 

"  I  see  your  destinies  written  on  your  foreheads," 
replied  the  old  woman.  The  second  Henry  could 
hardly  retain  his  self-possession.  The  last  two  be- 
gan to  laugh.  The  old  woman  continued  : 


158  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

"  As  you  all  four  have  been  united  in  this  cabin, 
you  will  all  four  be  united  in  the  same  destiny. 
As  you  have  trampled  under  foot  and  soiled  with 
blood  the  bread  which  hospitality  has  offered  you, 
so  shall  you  trample  under  foot  and  soil  with  blood 
the  power  which  you  would  share.  As  you  have 
spoiled  and  impoverished  this  cottage,  you  will 
spoil  and  impoverish  France.  As  you  have  all 
four  been  wounded  in  the  dark,  you  will  all  four 
perish  by  treachery  and  a  violent  death." 

The  four  noblemen  could  not  forbear  laughing  at 
the  old  woman's  prediction. 

These  four  noblemen,  were  the  four  heroes  of 
the  League,  two  as  its  chiefs,  two  as  its  enemies. 

Henry  de  Cond6,  poisoned  by  his  servants. 

Henry  de  Guise,  assassinated  by  the  Quarante- 
cinq. 

Henry  de  Valois,  (Henry  III.)  assassinated  by 
Jacques  Clement. 

Henry  de  Bourbon,  (Henry  IY.)  assassinated  by 
Ravaillac. 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  159 


SPECTRE    OF    THE    BROCKEN. 

TEETER  Peterson,  and  his  brother  Hans,  lived  in 
_L  a  little  village  in  Hanover,  just  at  the  foot  ot 
the  highest  of  the  Hartz  Mountains,  the  celebrated 
Brocken.  It  was  a  wild,  beautiful  country.  The 
steep,  rocky  mountains  looked  as  if  resolved  that 
no  human  foot  should  climb  them  ;  the  gloomy  for- 
est-trees stood  close  together,  like  ranks  of  soldiers, 
ready  to  repel  any  invasion  of  their  territory  ;  and 
the  turbulent  streams  leaped  down  precipices,  and 
forced  their  way  through  deep  caverns,  as  if  to 
defy  any  attempt  to  cross  them.  Yet  people  did 
live  at  the  foot  of  these  mountains,  their  cattle 
grazed  on  the  patches  of  open  pasturage,  and  some- 
times forced  themselves  a  short  distance  into  the 
thick,  frowning  forests,  and  drank  of  the  rushing 
streams.  Sometimes,  too,  they  would  stray  so  far 
in  these  wilds  that  the  poor  peasants  would  have 
to  follow  them  and  drive  them  home  ;  but  they  did 
so,  trembling  with  fear,  for  they  well  knew  that  if 
these  places  were  rough  and  inaccessible  to  man, 
they  were  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  wild  man  of 
the  forest.  Did  not  the  weird  huntsman  soucd  his 
horn  and  dash  through  those  passes  in  the  night  ? 
and  when  the  wind  blew  and  the  storm  raged,  had 
not  the  hosts  of  darkness  been  heard  hurrying  on 
their  spectral  steeds  to  their  rendezvous  ? 


160 


MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 


"TRAVEL    AND    ADVENTURE.         161 

Peter  and  Hans  had  heard  all  these  things,  and 
believed  them,  too.  Had  not  their  grandmother 
told  them,  over  and  over  again,  how  the  spirits  of 
the  air,  spirits  of  the  earth,  and  spirits  of  the  water 
reveled  in  those  very  mountains,  woods,  and 
streams,  so  near  and  yet  so  terrible  to  them  ? 

Peter  and  Hans  were  both  brave  lads,  not  more 
inclined  to  superstition  than  most  lads  of  their  age. 
They  only  believed  and  trembled  at  what  all  the 
world  around  them  believed  and  trembled  at. 

But  Peter  and  Hans  were  curious,  too,  and  they 
were  not  cowards  either ;  so  that  their  curiosity 
would  often  get  the  better  of  their  prudence,  and 
they  would  venture  on  some  part  of  the  forbidden, 
or  enchanted  ground. 

One  day,  as  they  were  driving  homeward  the 
flock  they  had  been  watching,  Peter  exclaimed, 
"  Look  !  Hans,  see  how  bright  the  sun  shines  on 
the  top  of  the  Brocken.  Do  you  suppose  the  old 
fellow  up  there  sees  it,  or  is  it  too  bright  for  his 
eyes  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Hans.  "  You  know  he  was 
never  seen,  except  about  sunrise,  so  I  think  he 
must  walk  about  at  night,  and  go  to  bed  in  the 
daytime." 

"  So  he  says  '  good  night'  to  the  sun,  when  he's 
getting  up.  I  wonder  how  he  can  keep  his  eyes 
open,  when  the  great  sun  is  wide  awake,  and  sends 
such  a  flood  of  light  down  on  the  earth,"  said 
Peter. 


162  MEERY'S   BOOK    OF 

"  It  could  not  do  us  any  harm  to  look  at  that  old 
fellow  some  morning  at  sunrise,"  said  Hans.  "  I 
declare  I  am  tired  of  hearing  about  these  folk,  and 
never  seeing  them." 

"  It  would  only  do  you  harm  if  they  should  see 
you,"  replied  Peter. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  they  shall  see  me,"  answered 
Hans,  "  that  is,  not  near  enough  to  touch  me.  Be- 
sides, I  only  intend  to  see  the  specter  up  here  on 
the  Brocken,  and  that  I  can  do  by  climbing  that 
hill,  yonder." 

"  Well,  you  have  some  spirit  in  you,  after  all, 
Hans,  and  I  have  a  mind  to  go  with  you.  Two  are 
better  than  one,"  cried  Peter. 

"  Yes,  two  are  better  than  one,"  said  Hans, 
slowly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Peter  ;  "  we  will  fix  a  time 
by-and-by." 

"  No,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Hans  ;  "  wrait  till  your 
courage  oozes  away,  or  somebody  hears  us  talking 
of  it,  and  stops  us.  /shall  go  to-morrow." 

The  boys  had  now  reached  home.  They  did  not 
venture  to  say  anything  more  on  the  subject,  lest 
their  careful  mother  should  thwart  their  plan. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  boys  were  up.  It 
was  their  duty  daily.  Every  one  in  the  cottage 
rose  early.  This  morning,  at  least,  there  was  no 
lingering.  They  drove  their  flock  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  and  then,  with  no  time  to  lose,  began 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  163 

swiftly  to  ascend  it.  When  they  reached  the  top, 
there,  full  before  them,  stood  the  Brocken.  The 
sun's  rays  had  just  touched  the  very  summit  with 
a  faint  tinge  of  rose  color.  Not  a  cloud  was  to  be 
seen,  not  a  mist  to  intercept  their  view  ;  but  the 
specter  was  not  there. 

"  He  never  does  come  out  in  a  clear  day,"  said 
Hans,  pettishly. 

"  They  say  he  always  manages  to  cover  himself 
with  mist  and  clouds,  so  you  don't  see  him  so  plain- 
ly as  we  could  if  we  were  there  now.  What  a 
grand  view  we  could  have  at  him  if  he  only  would 
come  out  of  his  hiding-place  1" 

The  next  morning  the  boys  ascended  the  moun- 
tain again.  Hans  was  a  little  in  advance,  and  as 
he  turned  a  projecting  rock,  and  stood  on  the  very- 
topmost  point,  the  Brocken,  vailed  in  light  vapor, 
was  before  him,  and  there,  terrible  in  its  shadowy 
vastness,  stood  the  gigantic  form  of  the  specter. 
Hans  stood  a  moment,  trembling,  and  then,  recover- 
ing his  courage,  turned  back  to  call  his  brother. 
"  He  is  there,  and  I  have  seen  him,  Peter,"  he 
whispered. 

Peter  shrank  back. 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  be  afraid/'  said  Hans  ;  "  he 
did  not  notice  me  nor  harm  me.  There  are  some 
dreadful  chasms  and  precipices  between  this  and 
the  Brocken.  Even  his  giant  foot  could  not  step 
over  them.''* 


164  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

Thus  reassured,  Peter  came  up  and  looked,  but 
the  specter  was  gone.  His  strength,  too,  was  gone, 
and  he  la}7  down,  panting,  while  Hans  stood  by  him, 
looking  earnestly  at  the  spot  where  he  had  seen 
the  specter.  Suddenly  he  appeared  again.  Hans 
did  not  take  off  his  eyes,  but  turned  toward  Peter, 
and  whispered,  "  He  is  there  again  •  look  !" 

Peter,  crouching  close  to  the  ground,  looked  up, 
and  saw  the  awful  form,  standing  motionless,  except 
that  the  wind  blew  his  long  coat's  fantastic  folds 
hither  and  thither. 

He  seemed  looking  toward  them.  At  last  Hans 
raised  his  hand  to  his  cap,  fearful  that  it  might  be 
blown  off.  The  specter  did  the  same. 

Hans  was  frightened.  The  specter  certainly 
noticed  them,  and  had  mocked  him.  What  did  it 
mean  ?  Without  turning  his  eyes,  he  leaned  over 
toward  his  brother,  and  whispered,  "  Peter,  do  you 
see  that  ?  He  saw,  and  mocked  me.  He  is  watch- 
ing us." 

To  his  horror,  the  specter  also  leaned  to  the 
ground,  as  if  speaking  to  some  one  near  him. 

"  Lift  me  up,"  cried  Peter  ;  "  help  me  to  run 
away.  Let  us  get  away  from  this  place  before  he 
springs  over  to  us." 

"  He  can't  do  that,"  said  Hans,  growing  brave  as 
he  saw  his  brother's  fear  ;  "I  will  lie  down  beside 
you,  and  see  what  he  will  do." 

Hans  laid  down,  and  to  his  astonishment,  the 
specter  vanished. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  165 

"  He  lias  only  taken  some  short  way  hither,  or 
gone,  perhaps,  to  call  some  other  creatures  like 
himself,"  whispered  Peter,  in  an  agony  of  fear. 
"  Let  us  go  quickly." 

Hans  trembled  too.  He  was  more  afraid  of  the 
epecter  invisible  than  when  he  saw  him  on  the  dis- 
tant mountains,  and  knew  that  they  were  separated 
by  impassable  gulfs.  So,  giving  his  hand  to  Peter, 
he  helped  him  to  rise,  shaking  in  every  limb.  But 
instead  of  running,  they  stood  petrified  with  fear. 
The  specter  too  had  risen,  as  if  from  the  earth, 
dragging  with  him  another  figure  as  large,  as  ter- 
rible in  every  respect  as  himself. 

Unable  to  move,  the  poor  boys  might  have  stood 
there  till  petrified  with  fear.  But  suddenly  the  sun 
broke  through  the  clouds,  chased  away  the  mists, 
and  shone  full  and  clear  on  the  Brocken  and  all  the 
neighboring  peaks.  The  specter  and  his  awful 
companion  vanished  in  the  clear  sunlight,  the  boys' 
courage  returned,  and  soon  they  were  able  to  re- 
turn home. 

Poor  Peter,  however,  could  not  soon  recover  from 
the  shock  his  nerves  had  sustained.  At  length,  to 
explain  the  singular  change  in  looks  and  health, 
Hans  was  obliged  to  tell  the  story  of  their  adven- 
ture. It  spread  through  the  village  ;  young  men 
and  maidens,  old  men  and  children,  all  flocked  to 
Hans  to  hear  his  story.  All  the  stories  that  had 
ever  been  told  of  the  "  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain," 


166  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

"  The  Huntsman  of  the  Hartz,"  and  the  "  Specter," 
and  hundreds  of  such  personages,  were  rehearsed 
over  and  over  again  by  the  grandams.  Yet  no  one 
dared  venture  out,  except  in  broad  day-light,  with 
every  precaution  against  the  evil  influence  of  de- 
mons. 

It  was  not  until  many,  many  years  afterward, 
that  a  traveler,  wiser  than  the  poor  peasants,  prov- 
ed, to  his  own  satisfaction,  and  theirs  too,  that  the 
specter  was  only  a  reflection  of  the  person  who 
stood  on  the  other  mountain,  thrown  by  the  sun  on 
the  mists  of  the  Brocken. 

The  relative  heights  of  the  two  peaks  was  such, 
that  the  first  slant  rays  of  the  rising  sun  would 
glance  over  the  summit  of  one  to  that  of  the  other, 
carrying  with  them  the  images  of  whatever  objects 
were  in  the  way. 

Thus  the  people  of  the  Hartz  had  for  years  been 
afraid  of  their  own  shadows,  like  many  wiser 
people  even  in  this  day. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  167 


KING   EODERICK   AND  THE   ENCHANTED 
CAVERN. 


|.|ii  PAIN,  during  the  middle  ages,  on  ac- 
count probably  of  its  possessing  so  large 
a  stock  of  Arabian  learning  and  super- 
stition, was  believed  to  be  a  favorite  residence 
of  magicians.  Pope  Sylvester,  who  brought 
the  Arabian  manual  from  Spain  into  the  other  parts 
of  Europe,  was  supposed  to  have  learned  in  the 
former  country  the  magic  arts  for  which  he  was 
stigmatized  by  the  ignorance  of  his  age.  In  fact, 
there  were  public  schools  at  Toledo,  Seville  and 
Salamanca,  where  magic,  or  rather  the  natural 
sciences  which  were  supposed  to  contain  the  mys- 
teries of  the  magical  art,  were  regularly  taught. 
In  Salamanca,  the  schools  were  held  in  a  deep  cav- 
ern, the  mouth  of  which  was  afterwards  walled  up 
by  order  of  Queen  Isabella  of  Castile. 

The  celebrated  magician,  Maugis,  cousin  to  Ri- 
naldo  of  Montalban,  called  by  Ariosto,  Malagigi, 
studied  the  black  art  at  Toledo.  He  even  held  a 
professor's  chair  in  the  necromantic  university, 
which  the  vulgar  believed  to  have  been  founded  by 
Hercules,  who  was  taught  the  magical  science  by 
Atlas,  along  with  astronomy  and  the  other  liberal 


168  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

arts.  Don  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Gothic  Kings 
of  Spain,  who  lost  his  life  in  battle  with  the  Saracen 
invaders,  A.  D.  710,  is  said  to  have  had  a  remarka- 
ble adventure  in  one  of  these  enchanted  caverns 
near  Toledo,  which  is  thus  related  in  a  Spanish 
book,  called  the  true  history  of  the  King  Don  Rod- 
erick. 

About  a  mile  east  of  the  city  of  Toledo,  among 
some  rocks,  was  situated  an  ancient  tower  of  mag- 
nificent architecture,  though  much  dilapidated  by 
time,  that  great  destroyer  who  consumes  every- 
thing. Twenty  or  thirty  feet  below  it  was  a  cave 
with  a  very  narrow  entrance,  and  a  gate  cut  out  of 
the  solid  rock,  lined  with  a  strong  covering  of  iron, 
and  fastened  with  many  locks.  Above  the  gate 
some  Greek  letters  were  engraved,  which,  although 
abbreviated,  and  of  doubtful  meanings,  were  thus 
interpreted  according  to  the  exposition  of  learned 
men  :  "  The  King,  who  opens  this  cave,  and  can 
discover  the  wonders,  will  gain  the  knowledge  of 
both  good  and  evil  things."  Many  kings  desired  to 
know  the  mystery  of  this  tower,  and  took  great 
pains  to  learn  how  it  might  be  discovered.  But 
when  they  opened  the  gate,  such  a  tremendous 
noise  arose  in  the  cavern,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the 
earth  was  about  to  burst  asunder.  Many  persons 
grew  sick  with  terror,  and  others  dropped  down 
dead. 

To  guard  against  these  dangers,  for  it  was  sup- 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  169 

posed  that  a  most  perilous  enchantment  was  con- 
tained within,  new  locks  were  put  upon  the  gate, 
and  the  entrance  was  more  strongly  defended.  The 
belief  was,  that  a  king  was  destined  to  open  it,  but 
that  the  time  had  not  yet  come.  At  length  the 
King  Don  Roderick,  led  on  by  his  evil  star  and  un- 
lucky destiny,  opened  the  tower,  and  entered  the 
mysterious  regions  in  company  with  four  bold  at- 
tendants, although  they  were  all  agitated  with  fear. 
Having  proceeded  a  good  way  they  fled  back  to 
the  entrance,  terrified  by  a  frightful  vision  which 
they  had  beheld. 

The  king  was  greatly  moved,  and  ordered  many 
torches  to  be  brought,  so  contrived  that  the  tem- 
pest in  the  cave  could  not  extinguish  them.  Then 
the  king  entered,  not  without  fear,  before  all  the 
others.  They  discovered  by  degrees  a  splendid 
hall,  apparently  built  in  a  very  sumptuous  manner. 
In  the  centra  stood  a  bronze  statue  of  very  fero- 
cious appearance,  holding  a  battle-ax  in  its  hands. 
With  this  weapon  it  struck  the  floor  violently,  giv- 
ing such  heavy  blows,  that  the  motion  of  the  air 
caused  all  the  terrible  noise  which  was  heard  in  the 
cave. 

The  king,  greatly  affrighted,  began  to  conjure 
this  terrible  visitation,  promising  that  he  would  re- 
turn without  doing  any  injury  in  the  cave,  after  he 
had  obtained  a  sight  of  what  was  contained  in  it. 
The  statue  ceased  to  strike  the  floor,  and  the  king, 


170  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 

with  his  followers,  somewhat  assured  and  recover- 
ing their  courage,  proceeded  into  the  hall.  On  the 
left  of  the  statue  they  found  this  description  on 
the  wall,  "Unfortunate  king!  thou  hast  entered 
here  in  evil  hour."  On  the  right  side  of  the  hall 
these  words  were  inscribed,  "By  strange  nations 
thou  shalt  be  dispossessed,  and  thy  subjects  foully 
degraded."  On  the  shoulders  of  the  statue  other 
words  were  written,  which  said,  "  I  call  upon  the 
Arabs  I"  And  upon  his  breast  was  written,  "  I  do 
my  office."  At  the  entrance  of  the  hall  was  placed 
a  round  bowl,  from  which  proceeded  a  loud  noise 
like  the  fall  of  water.  They  found  nothing  else  in 
the  hall,  and  when  the  king,  sorrowful  and  greatly 
affected,  had  turned  round  to  leave  the  place,  the 
statue  again  began  to  beat  the  floor  with  his  battle- 
axe. 

After  all  the  company  had  mutually  promised  to 
conceal  from  the  knowledge  of  others,  everything 
which  they  had  seen,  they  again  closed  the  tower, 
and  blocked  up  the  gate  of  the  cavern  with  earth,  that 
no  memory  might  remain  in  the  world  of  such  a 
portentous  and  evil-boding  prodigy.  The  ensuing 
midnight  they  heard  great  cries  and  clamor  in  the 
cave,  resounding  like  the  noise  of  battle,  and  the 
ground  shook  with  a  dreadful  roar.  The  old  tower 
then  fell  in  ruins  to  the  ground  with  a  tremendous 
crash,  causing  them  unspeakable  terror  ;  for  the 
vision,  which  they  had  beheld,  appeared  to  them 
as  a  dream. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  171 

The  king  afterwards  caused  wise  men  to  explain 
what  the  inscription  signified.  These  persons  hav- 
ing consulted  together,  and  studied  their  meaning, 
disclosed  that  the  statue  of  bronze,  and  the  motions 
which  it  made  with  its  battle-axe,  signified  Time, 
and  that  its  office,  alluded  to  in  the  inscription  on 
its  breast,  was,  that  he  never  rests  a  single  moment. 
The  words  on  the  shoulders,  "I  call  upon  the 
Arabs,"  they  expounded  to  mean  that  in  time  the 
kingdom  of  Spain  would  be  conquered  by  that  peo- 
ple. The  words  upon  the  left  wall  signified  the  de- 
struction of  King  Roderick,  the  dreadful  calamities 
which  were  to  fall  upon  the  Spaniards  and  Goths, 
and  that  the  unfortunate  monarch  would  be  dispos- 
sessed of  all  his  dominions.  Finally,  the  letters  on 
the  portal  indicated  that  good  would  betide  to  the 
conquerors,  and  evil  to  the  conquered — of  which 
experience  proved  the  truth. 


172 


MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 


THE  MOUNTAIN  LUTE. 


MONT   BLAtfC. 

I  WILL  now  give  you  an  account  of  an  adventure 
which  befell  me  among  the  mountains  of  Swit- 
zerland. 

From  the  highest  summit  of  those  hills  that  over- 
look the  vale  of  Lucca  on  the  Savoy,  I  was  contem- 
plating the  extended  landscape  around  me.  More 
than  half  way  down  the  hill,  I  saw  a  hamlet,  that 
assured  me  of  a  lodging  for  the  night.  Thtis  freed 


TEAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  173 

from  inquietude,  I  allowed  my  mind  to  roam  at 
large  in  contemplation,  and  my  eye  to  wander  from 
one  object  to  another  of  the  spacious  view.     But 
soon  the  sylvan  choristers'  last  song  admonished 
me  to  think  of  seeking  shelter  for  the  night.     The 
sun,  already  sunk  behind  the  opposite  mountain, 
colored  with  his  gold  and  purple  rays  the  clouds 
that  seemed  to  float  just  above  the  trees  that  cover 
its  summit.     I  descended  slowly  ;  the  twilight  now 
began  to  veil  the  horizon  with  a  shade,  which  by 
degrees  grew  browner,  till  the  empress  of  night 
dispelled  the  darkness  with  her  silver  beams.     I 
sat  down  for  a  moment,  to  enjoy  the  picture.     No- 
thing intercepted  my  view  throughout  the  vast  ex- 
panse, and  I  contemplated  the  infinite  extent  at 
leisure.     From  the  trembling  moon,  and  stars  that, 
twinkled  while  I  gazed  upon  them,  my  eye  passed 
over  the  calm  and  spotless  azure  of  the  firmament. 
The  air  was  fresh,  nor  did  the  slightest  breeze  dis- 
turb it.     Nature  was  absorbed  in  universal  silence, 
save    the   low   murmur  of  a   stream   meandering 
through  the  country  at  a  distance.     Stretched  upon 
the  grass,  I  might  perhaps  have  contemplated  till 
sunrise  ;  but  the  music  of  a  lute,  made  more  har- 
monious by  a  voice,  struck  upon  my  ear,  and  I  felt 
the  delight  of  fancying  myself  suddenly  transported 
as  in  a  dream  to  what  are  called  the  regions  of  en- 
chantment.    "  A  lute  upon  the  mountain  !"  said  I, 
and  turned  to  that  side  whence  the  melody  pro- 


174  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

ceeded,  and  discovered  through  the  dark  verdure 
of  the  trees,  the  white  walls  and  garden  paling  of  a 
cottage.  I  approached  it  and  beheld  a  young  pea- 
sant with  a  lute,  on  which  he  was  playing  with  ex- 
quisite address.  A  woman  standing  at  his  left, 
kept  looking  on  him  with  infinite  affection.  Stand- 
ing about  were  many  people,  all  in  attitudes  ot 
pleasure  and  attention. 

When  I  first  made  my  appearance,  several  of  the 
children  came  to  meet  me,  looked  at  each  other, 
and  said  among  themselves,  "  What  gentleman  is 
this  ?"  The  young  musician  turned  his  head,  but 
did  not  leave  off  playing.  I  held  out  my  hand  ;  he 
gave  me  his,  which  I  seized  with  a  sort  of  trans- 
port. Every  one  now  rose  up  and  made  a  circle 
round  us.  I  informed  them,  as  concisely  as  I  could, 
of  my  business  in  that  quarter  of  the  country,  and 
at  such  a  time  of  night.  "  We  have  not  an  inn  for 
many  miles  about,"  remarked  the  youthful  pea- 
sant ;  "  we  live  far  from  any  road  ;  but  if  you  are 
conte'nt  to  put  up  with  a  cottage  and  poor  people, 
we  will  do  our  best  to  entertain  you.  You  are  fa- 
tigued, I  fancy.  Didier,  bring  a  chair.  Excuse 
me,  sir  ;  I  owe  my  neighbors  the  evening  enter- 
tainment I  am  now  giving  them." 

I  would  not  take  the  chair,  but  laid  myself  upon 
the  grass,  as  the  rest  did.  Every  one  had  now  re- 
sumed his  former  posture  •  and  the  silence  1  had 
interrupted  took  place  again. 


TRAVEL      AND      ADVENTURE.  17") 


^,/v -;••;. 

;  :h!  c 


THE   LUTE   PLAYER. 


176  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

The  young  man  immediately  began  to  play  upon 
his  mountain  lute  ;  and  to  sing  a  favorite  ballad, 
which  he  did  with  so  much  sweetness,  that  I  could 
see  tears  stand  trembling  in  the  eye  of  every  lis- 
tener by  the  time  he  had  repeated  the  first  couplet. 
After  he  had  finished,  the  whole  company  rose  up, 
wiping  tears  from  their  eyes.  They  wished  each 
other  a  good-night  with  perfect  cordiality.  The 
neighbors  with  their  children  went  away,  and  none 
were  left,  except  an  old  man  upon  a  seat  beside 
the  door,  whom  till  now  I  had  not  noticed,  the 
musician,  with  the  woman  sitting  by  him,  Didier, 
the  young  boy  whose  name  I  recollected,  and  my- 
self. 

"  Dear  sir/7  said  the  old  man,  "  you  are  content, 
I  fancy,  with  your  evening's  entertainment  ?  You 
shall  repose  in  my  bed."  "  No,  father,"  interrupted 
Didier,  who  came  running  from  the  barn,  "  I  have 
been  spreading  me  some  straw,  and  it  is  my  bed 
the  gentleman  shall  lie  in,  if  he  pleases."  I  was 
forced  to  promise  I  would  yield  to  this  last  offer. 
Didier,  upon  this,  held  out  his  hand  ;  the  old  man 
rested  on  his  shoulder  and  went  in,  after  wishing 
me  a  good-night  ;  we  soon  followed  into  the  cottage, 
where,  to  my  'astonishment,  I  saw  an  air  of  order 
and  propriety  about  me.  After  having  made  a 
plentiful,  but  light  repast,  upon  such  fruits  as  I 
was  told  the  mountain  yielded,  Didier  led  me  to  a 
niche  in  one  of  the  apartments  ;  it  was  rather  nar- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


177 


row,  but  the  bed  that  filled  it  was  both  clean  and 
wholesome.  This  bed,  the  little  fellow  told  me,  he 
released  with  pleasure  in  my  favor.  It  was  not 
long  before  I  fell  into  a  downy  slumber,  and  my 
sleeping  thoughts  were  occupied  upon  the  charm- 
ing objects  I  had  recently  witnessed.  I  did  not, 
all  the  following  day,  quit  this  happy  family,  and 
if  my  fortune  should  in  future  permit  me,  I  intend 
to  make  a  yearly  visit  to  this  mountain,  for  the 
purpose  of  revisiting  my  friends,  and  filling  my 
heart  with  those  sensations  of  content  and  peace 
which  their  society  and  habitation  cannot  but  in- 
spire. 


178  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 


DUSHMANTA. 


HE  most  powerful  of  the  sovereigns 
of  India,  was  DUSHMANTA,  and  his 
wealth  and  magnificence  had  no  bounds. 
But  he  was  proud  and  arrogant  in  his 
riches,  and  he  shut  his  heart  to  the  meaner 
class  of  his  people,  and  bowed  his  scepter 
only  to  the  princes  and  nobles  who  stood  around 
his  throne. 

This  conduct  sorely  grieved  an  aged  Bramin, 
who  had  been  his  teacher  in  the  days  of  his  youth. 
And  he  left  his  hermitage,  strewed  dust  upon  his 
head,  and  presented  himself  at  the  splendid  portal 
of  the  royal  palace. 

Here  he  was  observed  by  the  king,  who  com- 
manded the  Bramin  to  be  brought  before  him. 

"  Wherefore,"  he  asked,  "  dost  thou  appear  in 
the  garb  of  mourning,  and  why  doth  dust  cover 
thy  venerable  head  ?" 

"  When  I  quitted  thee,"  answered  the  Bramin, 
"  thou  wert  the  wealthiest  of  all  the  monarchs  of 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  179 

India,  who  had  ever  sat  upon  the  throne  of  thv 
fathers.  For  Bra  ma  had  blessed  thee  beyond  con- 
ception, and  joy  was  in  my  heart  when  I  left  the 
dwelling  of  the  king,  my  master.  But  tidings  have 
reached  me  in  my  solitude  that  all  thy  wealth  has 
vanished,  and  that  abject  poverty  is  now  thy  lot." 

Dushmanta  heard  these  words  with  amazement, 
and  smiled.  "  What  fool,"  he  said,  "  has  told  thee 
this  falsehood  ?  Behold  this  palace,  the  gardens 
which  surround  it,  and  the  servants  who  attend 
my  bidding." 

"  All  this,"  answered  the  venerable  Bramin,  "  is 
but  an  illusion,  which  cannot  dazzle  the  truly  wise. 
The  sovereign  of  India  has  fallen  from  his  high 
condition  into  poverty." 

Then  the  king  wondered  still  more  at  the  words 
of  the  wise  Bramin,  and  said — "  Who  then  hath 
witnessed  it  and  told  thee,  and  whose  report  de- 
serves more  credit  than  the  sight  of  my  eyes  and 
the  touch  of  my  hands?" 

The  aged  man  then  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said 
— "  The  sun,  the  emblem  of  truth,  beneath  the 
throne  of  Brama,  the  clouds  above  our  heads,  and 
the  fruit  tree  before  my  hut,  announce  and  attest 
to  me  thy  poverty." 

Dushmanta  was  silent,  while  the  old  man  pro- 
ceeded thus — "  That  Brama  hath  endowed  the 
luminary  of  day  with  inexhaustible  light  and  heat, 
I  am  assured  by  its  beams,  which,  from  its  rising 


180  MEEBY'S  BOOK    OF 

to  its  setting,  are  poured  upon  every  blade  of  grass, 
upon  my  cottage  as  upon  thy  palace,  and  which 
are  reflected  in  every  dew-drop  as  in  the  vast 
ocean.  The  cloud,  when  fraught  with  rain,  moves 
over  hill  and  dale,  and  alike  moistens  with' its  abun- 
dance the  parched  clod  and  the  thirsty  mountain. 
The  fruit  tree  bows  its  laden  branches  toward  the 
earth.  Thus  does  nature  declare  and  testify  that 
Brama  hath  blessed  her  with  riches.  But  thou  art 
like  a  rock,  the  spring  of  which  is  dried  up.  If 
these  words  do  not  convince  thee,  Dushmanta,  ask 
the  tears  of  thy  people,  and  then  pride  thyself 
upon  thy  wealth,  before  the  face  of  Brama,  and  ot 
the  universe  which  he  hath  created. " 

Thus  spake  the  hermit,  and  he  returned  to  his 
cottage.  But  Dushmanta  took  the  words  of  the 
Bramin  to  heart,  and  he  again  became  a  benefactor 
and  a  blessing  to  his  people. 

After  this  he  repaired  one  day  to  the  cottage  ot 
the  Bramin,  and  called  him  forth,  and  said — "  I 
may  now  venture  to  appear  once  more  in  the  rays 
of  the  bounteous  sun,  and  in  the  presence  of  thy 
tree,  laden  with  its  fruit.  But  one  thing  is  still 
wanting." 

"  And  what,"  asked  the  Bramin,  "  can  be  wanting 
to  that  prince,  who  is  a  blessing  to  his  country, 
and  a  father  to  his  people  ?" 

"  I  have  still,"  answered  Dushmanta,  "  to  offer 
the  grateful  tribute  of  my  heart  to  that  wisdom 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE 


181 


which  has  led  me  into  the  right  path,  and  taught 
me  that  the  glad  looks  of  a  people  are  the  sole 
riches  of  their  prince  and  ruler.  I  had  become 
poor  ;  thou  hist  made  me  once  more  inexpressibly 
rich." 

Thus  spake  the  prince,  and  the  venerable  man 
embraced  him  with  tears  of  joy,  and  blessed  him. 


182 


MERRYS     BOOK     OF 


THE  GYPSIES. 


THE  LOST   CHILD  AND   THE  GYPSIES. 

YPSIES  are  a  class  of  people,  who  have  no  set- 
VT  tied  place  to  live  in,  but  wander  about  from 
spot  to  spot,  and  sleep  at  night  in  tents,  or  in  barns. 
We  have  no  gypsies  in  our  country,  for  here  every 
person  can  find  employment  of  some  kind,  and  there 
is  no  excuse  for  idlers  and  vagrants.  Bat  in  many 
parts  of  Europe,  the  gypsies  are  very  numerous  ; 
and  they  are  often  wicked  and  troublesome.  It  is 
said  that  "they  are  descendants  of  the  Egyptians, 
and  have  lived  a  wandering  life  ever  since  the  year 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  183 

1517,  at  which  time  they  refused  to  submit  to  the 
Turks,  who  were  the  conquerors  of  Egypt. 

Being  banished  from  their  native  county,  the 
gypsies  agreed  to  unite  in  small  parties,  and  to  dis- 
perse themselves  over  different  parts  of  the  earth. 
There  are  not  so  many  of  them  now  as  there  used 
to  be,  but  they  are  still  to  be  found  in  considerable 
numbers,  in  Spain,  Germany  and  many  other  parts 
of  Europe. 

Well ;  I  have  a  short  story  to  tell  you  about  these 
gypsies.  Many  years  ago  as  the  boat  which  car- 
ries passengers  from  Leyden  to  Amsterdam,  was 
putting  off,  a  boy  run  along  the  side  of  the  canal, 
und  desired  to  be  taken  in.  The  master  of  the 
boat,  however,  refused  to  take  him,  because  he  had 
not  quite  money  enough  to  pay  the  usual  fare. 

A  rich  merchant  being  pleased  with  the  looks  ot 
the  boy,  whom  I  shall  call  Albert,  and  being  touch- 
ed with  compassion  towards  him,  paid  the  money 
for  him,  and  ordered  him  to  be  taken  on  board.  The 
little  fellow  thanked  the  merchant  for  his  kindness 
and  jumped  into  the  boat.  Upon  talking  with  him 
afterwards,  the  merchant  found  that  Albert  could 
speak  readily  in  three  or  four  different  languages. 
He  also  learned  that  the  boy  had  been  stolen  away 
when  a  child  by  a  gypsy,  and  had  rambled  ever 
since,  with  a  gang  of  these  strollers,  np  and  down 
several  parts  of  Europe. 

It   happened,  that  the   merchant,  whose   heart 


184  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

seemy  to  have  inclined  towards  the  boy  by  a  secret 
kind  of  instinct,  had  himself  lost  a  child  some  years 
before.  The  parents,  after  a  long  search  for  him, 
had  concluded  that  he  had  been  drowned  in  one  ot 
the  canals,  with  which  the  country  abounds  ;  and 
the  mother  was  so  afflicted  at  the  loss  of  her  son, 
that  she  died  for  grief  of  him. 

Upon  comparing  all  particulars,  and  examining 
the  marks,  by  which  the  child  was  described  when 
he  was  first  missing,  Albert  proved  to  be  the  long 
lost  son  of  the  merchant.  The  lad  was  well  pleased 
to  find  a  father  who  was  so  kind  and  generous  ; 
while  the  father  was  not  a  little  delighted  to  see  a 
son  return  to  him,  whom  he  had  given  up  for  lost. 

Albert  possessed  a  quick  understanding,  and 
could  speak  with  fluency  several  different  languages. 
In  time  he  rose  to  eminence  and  was  much  respect- 
ed for  his  talents  and  knowledge.  He  is  said  to 
have  visited,  as  a  public  minister,  several  countries 
in  which  he  formerly  wandered  as  a  gypsy. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


185 


LITTLE  FOUR-TOES. 


HERE  lived,  about  forty  years  ago, 
in  the  city  of  Lille,  in  France,  a  young 
lad  known  among  his  companions  by 
the  quaint  appellation  of  Little  Four-Toes, 
but  whose  real  name  was  Caesar. 
His  father  was  a  poor  shoemaker,  and  his  great- 
est exertions  were  barely  adequate  to  supply  him- 
self and  family  with  the  common  necessaries  of  life. 
Caesar  had  the  misfortune  to  be  born  without 
hands  or  arms,  the  upper  part  of  his  legs,  by  a 
strange  freak  of  nature,  had  been  left  out  of  his  or- 
ganization, and  each  foot  was  supplied  with  only 
four  toes. 

Under  this  accumulation  of  poverty  and  misfor- 
tune, he  seemed  destined  to  live  a  life  of  want  and 
misery  ;  but  his  fate  happily  proved  otherwise. 

While  still  young,  Caesar  became  quite  dexterous 
with  his  feet,  using  them  very  expertly  in  the  place 
of  hands,  in  the  common  games  of  his  playmates, 
and  at  the  time  our  sketch  opens,  he  was  the  best 
penman  in  Mr.  Dumoncelle's  writing  school,  which 


186  MERRY'S   BOOK    OF 

proves  that  hands  are  not  at  all  necessary  to  the 
welfare  of  a  genius,  however  needful  they  may  be 
to  ordinary  mortals. 

One  morning  as  Caesar  entered  the  little  school- 
room of  M.  Durnoncelle,  he  observed  the  master 
seated  at  his  desk,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his 
(Caesar's)  copybook  with  rather  an  impatient  hand. 

"  How  is  this,  Caesar,"  said  the  master,  sternly, 
as  he  eyed  the  blushing  boy  ;  "  how  is  this,  that 
you,  usually  so  diligent,  have  of  late  wasted  your 
time  and  disfigured  your  copy-book  with  these  fan- 
tastic figures?  This  is  not  the  way  to  prepare 
yourself  for  becoming  a  good  writing-teacher  !" 

"  Ah  !  master,"  replied  the  boy,  "  I  hope  you  will 
not  be  angry  with  me  ;  but  I  have  given  up  that 
idea.  I  do  not  wish  to  become  a  writing-teacher." 

"What  then,  pray?" 

"  A  painter !" 

"  A  painter  !"  said  the  master,  in  surprise  ;  "vvhen 
did  you  get  that  foolish  notion  into  your  head  ?  I 
thought  you  had  fully  determined  to  earn  a  living 
by  teaching  penmanship." 

"  And  so  I  had,"  Caesar  replied  j  "  but  when  I 
looked  upon  those  beautiful  paintings  in  Watley's 
Picture  Gallery,  my  soul  seemed  stirred  with  nobler 
impulses,  and  I  determined,  whatever  trials  and 
hardships  it  might  cost  me  to  be  a  painter — nothing 
but  a  painter." 

"  Ah  !  but,  Caesar,  you  must  not  forget  your  nat- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  187 

ufal  deformities,  which  unsuit  you  for  following 
painting  as  a  profession,  and  that  it  will  take  a 
great  deal  of  money  to  support  you  while  prepar- 
ing for  an  artist's  career.  As  a  teacher  of  penman- 
ship, you  can  succeed — as  a  painter,  never." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  friend  Dumoncelle  ?" 
said  a  gentleman,  as  he  advanced  from  the  door- 
way into  the  room.  "  You  are  a  good  writing-mas- 
ter, but  you  are  no  judge  of  painting  or  painters. 
Better  leave  that  business  to  me." 

"  Gladly  will  I,  M.  Watley  ;  so,  if  you  please,  look 
over  these  pen-and-ink  sketches,  and  give  this  boy 
your  opinion  of  them,"  replied  the  master,  as  he 
handed  Cesar's  copy-book  to  the  gentleman. 

In  the  mean  time,  Caesar  stood  near  by,  with 
downcast  eyes  and  flushed  face,  fully  expecting  a 
severe  reprimand  from  M.  Watley,  who  was  a  noted 
painter,  and  at  that  time  President  of  the  School  of 
Design  in  Lille. 

But  as  the  critic  said  nothing,  Ciesar  gathered 
courage  and  looked  up. 

Watley  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  copy- 
book slowly,  but  was  evidently  pleased. 

When  he  reached  the  last  picture,  he  said, 
"  These  are  excellently  done,  my  lad,  for  one  so 
young.  Give  me  your  hand  ;  I  welcome  you  into 
the  brotherhood  of  artists." 

But  CcBsar  smiled  sadly,  as  he  said,  "  Ah !  mon- 
sieur, I  am  without  hands." 


188  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

"  Without  hands  !"  repeated  Watley,  in  surprise, 
for  he  had  not  before  noticed  this  misfortune  of 
Ca3sar.  "  How,  then,  pray,  did  you  make  these 
pictures  ?'' 

"  With  my  feet,"  replied  the  lad,  modestly. 

"The  boy  is  a  prodigy,  a  genius/' murmured  the 
astonished  painter.  "  You  shall  be  a  painter,  my 
lad,"  he  continued,  "  if  you  wish  it.  I  myself  will 
get  you  admitted  into  the  School  of  Design." 

Cassar  was  overjoyed  at  a  prospect  of  a  fulfill- 
ment of  his  long-cherished  hopes,  and,  hardly  wait- 
ing to  thank  M.  Watley  for  his  generous  offer,  he 
hurried  home  to  tell  his  parents  of  the  proposal  of 
the  artist. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Cgesar  was  admitted  into 
the  School  of  Design,  and  from  that  time  his  course 
was  steadily  upward. 

After  a  few  years  of  hard  study,  and  steady  ap- 
plication, he  received  from  the  hands  of  his  gener- 
ous patron,  M.  Watley,  the  highest  prize  for  paint- 
ing ;  and  deeming  rightly  that,  to  be  a  good  painter 
he  must  put  himself  under  the  tuition  of  better 
artists  than  his  native  city  afforded,  he  removed  to 
Paris. 

Here,  in  a  few  years,  his  reputation  was  estab- 
lished, and  he  became  the  successful  and  admired 
painter,  Csesar  Ducornet,  for  by  this  name  was 
Little  Four-Toes  known  throughout  the  world. 

You  may  be  sure,  however  famous  and  honored 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  189 

he  was,  that  he  did  not  forget,  in  his  prosperity,  his 
poor  parents.  As  soon  as  possible,  they  were  sent 
for  to  come  to  his  residence  in  Paris  ;  and  he  whom 
one  might  suppose  an  object  of  charity,  generously 
supported  them  until  his  death,  which  occurred  in 
1856. 

May  this  short  story  of  his  life  nerve  some  youth- 
ful spirit  in  the  struggle  against  adverse  circum- 
stances, and  aid  it  to  bear  with  patient  courage  the 
burden  which  misfortune  has  entailed  upon  it. 


I 


190  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 


THE  ELVES  OF  THE  FOREST  CENTRE. 


lived  a  little  girl,  named  Maia,  with  her 
JL  mother,  in  a  deep  torest.  As  they  had  always 
dwelt  in  the  same  lone  spot,  the  child  had  become 
accustomed  to  the  solitude  of  the  surrounding 
woods,  and  even  loved  the  old  trees  that  towered 
above  her  head. 

So  she  was  not  surprised  when,  one  bright  morn- 
ing, her  mother  said  :  "  Maia,  take  thy  little  basket, 
and  go  to  the  forest  centre,  and  fetch  a  few  fagots 
and  some  nuts." 

Maia  quickly  put  on  her  gipsy  hat,  bade  her 
mother  good-bye,  and  tripped  away.  She  knew  all 
the  little  birds  and  squirrels  ;  she  did  not  fear  even 
the  king  of  beasts,  so  gentle  was  he  to  her.  And 
oh  !  when  the  young  tigers  leaped  forth  to  meet 
her,  she  could  not  help  setting  her  basket  down,  to 
take  a  nice  tumble  upon  the  soft  moss.  Then  the 
old  tiger  and  tigress  came  home,  bringing  four 
little  lions  to  spend  the  day.  So  they  carried  Maia 
on  their  backs  by  turn,  until  they  reached  the  for- 
est centre,  then,  wagging  their  tails,  they  left  her, 
all  alone. 

Hark  !  a  rustling  among  the  dry  branches  —  only 
the  wind,  or  a  squirrel  in  its  nest  —  Maia  began  to 
fill  her  basket  from  a  store  of  nuts,  hidden  in  a 
hollow  stump,  and  to  tie  up  her  fagots,  for  she  must 


TB  A  V 


EL     AND     ADVENTURE.  191 


DANCE    OF    THE    FAIRIES. 


192  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 

hasten  •  but  soon  she  dropped  her  basket,  the 
fagots  were  forgotten,  for  there,  before  her,  were 
the  little  Elves  of  the  forest ;  yes,  the  dear,  funny 
little  Elves,  whose  history  her  mother  had  so  often 
told  her. 

A  little  Elfin  stole  to  her  side,  to  see  what  she 
might  be,  and  Maia  was  half  tempted  to  seize  the 
tiny  creature,  but  something  bade  her  not,  so  she 
only  said  :  "  Oh,  how  beautiful  thon  art  !"  At  this 
the  little  Elf  darted  away,  but  soon  returned  to 
say  :  "  Our  king  desires  thee  to  come  and  feast 
with  us,  oh  1  great  giantess  !" 

Maia,  quite  bewildered,  followed  the  little  maid, 
and  soon  found  herself  in  the  presence  of  the  Elfin 
king,  a  tiny  fellow,  about  as  tall  as  her  hand,  and 
dressed  in  a  robe  of  crimson  velvet,  spangled  with 
diamonds.  As  she  began  to  blush  and  courtesy,  he 
said  :  "  Maia,  thou  art  a  good  child ;  we  have 
watched  thee,  day  by  day  ;  all  the  beasts  of  the 
forest  love  thee.  They  say,  '  So  kind  and  gentle- 
is  little  Maia  that  we  would  not  harm  her.'  We, 
too,  love,  and  will  befriend  thee." 

He  paused,  and  a  little  Elf  came  forth  to  dance. 
When  the  dance  was  finished,  Maia  sang  a  song 
about  the  Elves,  which  pleased  the  king  very  much  ; 
then  all  sat  down  to  the  banquet,  which  was  com- 
posed of  the  most  delicate  food  ever  known.  When 
all  were  done  feasting,  the  Elves  sang  another  song, 
after  which  Maia  was  again  called  by  the  king  : 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  193 

"Here,"  he  said,  leading  forward  the  Elfin  maid 
whom  she  had  before  met,  "  here  is  a  little  one  for 
thee  ;  guard  her  well,  and  she  will  be  a  faithful 
friend." 

"  How  can  I  repay  thy  kindness  ?"  cried  Maia ; 
but  before  she  could  say  more,  she  found  herself 
in  a  beautiful  little  carriage,  drawn  by  twelve  rob- 
ins, and  at  her  side  sat  the  maiden  Elfletta,  given 
her  by  the  king.  Soon  she  arrived  at  home,  where 
she  had  long  been  expected ;  but  where  was 
the  basket  of  nuts  ?  where  the  fagots  ?  Elfletta 
soon  answered  that  question,  by  pointing  to  another 
Elf,  who  was  seen  in  the  distance,  bringing  them, 
and  many  other  nice  things. 

But  this  good  fortune  did  not  make  Maia  forget 
her  duties,  and  I  am  sure  she  set  a  good  example 
for  Elfletta,  by  rising  early,  and  cheerfully  perform- 
ing her  labors.  At  the  forest  centre,  the  Elves 
were  always  glajl  to  see  her,  and  the  tigers  always 
glad  to  carry  her  there. 

When  she  grew  older,  the  little  Elfin  maid  found 
a  little  Elfin  man,  and,  as  they  loved  each  other, 
they  were  married.  Then  Maia's  good  old  mother 
died,  blessing  the  dear  daughter  who  had  been  a 
comfort  to  her  in  all  her  trials.  And  when  Maia 
found  gray  hairs  among  her  own  dark  tresses — 
when  her  hand  failed,  and  she  grew  old  and  feeble, 
there  had  sprung  up  around  her  a  little  family  of 
'Elves — then  did  they  befriend  her,  and  she  loved 
them  more  than  ever. 


194 


MERRY'S     BOOK     OF 


Her  eyes  grew  dim,  she  lay  down  to  rest,  and 
with  her  last  breath  blessed  the  little  Elves. 
Upon  the  bed  lay  a  cold  form,  with  a  calm  smile 
upon  the  face  ;  the  heart  did  not  beat,  the  eyes 
were  fixed,  the  old  woman  was  at  rest,  but  was  she 
there  ?  No  ;  in  the  sky  were  a  host  of  angels — 
they  bore  the  soul  of  Maia  to  its  heavenlv  home. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  195 


ADVENTURES   OF    CATLIN. 

AN  interesting  letter  has  lately  been  written  by 
a  young  man  in  Brazil,  in  which  he  relates  in 
a  very  amusing  manner,  some  of  his  adventures 
while  traveling  with  Catlin,  the  famous  traveler 
and  explorer.  They  proceeded  together  some 
1500  miles  by  land  and  by  water,  through  forests 
and  swamps  and  prairies,  following  the  course  ot 
the  Amazon.  It  should  be  stated  that  Catlin  was 
known  in  the  party  by  the  name  of  "Gqvernor." 
The  first  anecdote  relates 

How  THE  OLD  CHIEF  WAS  ASTONISHED  BY  A  COLT. 
— "  The  Governor  had  one  of  Colt's  pistols  in  his 
belt,  and  one  of  his  revolving  rifles  always  in  his 
hand,  and  I  had  the  old  Minie,  with  whose  power 
you  are  somewhat  acquainted.  I  had  let  out  the 
idea  that  the  Governor's  gun  could  shoot  all  day 
without  reloading,  which  made  an  illustration 
necessary. — They  were  all  anxious  to  see  it  'set  in 
motion/  smd  I  placed  the  door  of  our  tent,  which 
was  part  of  a  cow  skin  stretched  on  a  hoop,  at  the 
distance  of  sixty  or  seventy  yards,  with  a  bull's  eye 
in  the  centre.  The  whole  village  had  assembled, 
and  the  Governor  took  his  position  and  went  off, 
one  !  two  !  three  !  four  !  five  !  six  !  I  then  step- 
ped up  and  told  him  that  was  enough,  I  presumed  ; 
and  while  the  old  Chief  was  assuring  him  that  they 


196  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

were  all  convinced,  and  it  was  a  pity  to  waste  any 
more  ammunition,  the  Governor  was  slipping  the 
empty  cylinder  off  and  another  one  on,  with  six 
charges  more,  without  their  observing  what  he  was 
doing.  He  offered  to  proceed,  but  all  were  satis- 
fied that  his  gun  would  shoot  all  day  without  stop- 
ping, and  this  report  traveled  ahead  of  us  to  all  the 
tribes  we  afterwards  visited  in  that  region." 

The  next  is  a  Tiger  story  : 

KEEP  COOL  AND  DON'T  SPILL  THE  GRAVY. — "  One 
day,  when  we  had  landed,  and  most  of  our  party 
were  lying  asleep  on  the  boat,  which  was  drawn 
under  the  shade  of  some  large  trees,  the  Governor 
and  I  had  collected  wood  and  made  a  large  fire, 
over  which  we  were  roasting  a  fat  pig  which  I  had 
shot  from  the  boat  during  the  morning.  I  was 
squat  down  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  holding  a  short 
handled  frying-pan,  in  which  we  had  made  some 
very  rich  gravy,  which  the  Governor,  who  was 
squatted  down  opposite  to  me,  was  ladling  over 
the  pig,  with  an  Indian  wooden  spoon.  All  of  a 
sudden,  I  observed  his  eye  fixed  upon  something 
over  my  shoulder,  when  he  said  to  me  in  a  very 
low  tone,  '  Now  I  want  you  to  keep  perfectly  cool, 
and  don't  spill  your  gravy — there  is  a  splendid 
tiger  behind  you  1'  I  held  fast  to  the  frying-pan, 
and  turning  my  head  gradually  around,  I  had  a  full 
view  of  the  fellow  within  eight  paces  of  me,  lying 
flat  on  his  side,  and  with  his  paws  lifting  up  and 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  197 

playing  with  the  legs  of  one  of  the  Spaniards,  who 
had  laid  himself  down  upon  his  belly  and  was  fast 
asleep.  Our  rifles  were  left  in  the  boat  !  The 
Governor  drew  himself  gradually  down  the  bank, 
on  his  hands  and  feet,  ordering  me  not  to  move  ;  I 
was  in  hopes  he  would  have  taken  my  old  Minie, 
but  he  preferred  his  own  weapon,  and  getting  it  to 
bear  upon  the  beast,  he  was  obliged  to  wait  some 
minutes  for  it  to  raise  its  head,  so  as  not  to  endan- 
ger the  poor  Spaniard  ;  at  the  crack  of  the  rifle  the 
animal  gave  a  piercing  screech,  and  leaped  about 
15  feet  straight  in  the  air,  and  fell  quite  dead.  The 
Spaniard  leaped  nearly  as  far  in  a  different  direc- 
tion ;  and  at  the  same  instant,  from  behind  a  little 
bunch  of  bushes  on  the  opposite  side,  and  not  halt 
the  distance  from  our  fire,  and  right  behind  the 
Governor's  back,  where  he  had  been  sitting,  sprang 
the  mate,  which  darted  into  the  thicket  and  disap- 
peared. We  skinned  this  beautiful  animal,  which 
was  shot  exactly  between  the  eyes,  and  after  all 
hands  had  withdrawn  to  the  boat,  waited  several 
hours  in  hopes  that  the  other  one  would  show  it- 
self again,  but  we  waited  in  vain,  and  lost  our 
game." 


198  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 


THE  PANTHER  HUNT. 

powerful,  slenderly-formed  hounds  were 
.  coursing  along  through  the  dense  forest,  with 
their  noses  close  to  the  ground,  sometimes  leaving 
the  track  amid  the  dry  leaves,  and  snuffing  about 
the  fallen  trees,  and  old,  half-decayed  trunks,  then 
renewing  the  chase  with  loud  baying — a  certain 
sign  that  they  were  in  pursuit  of  a  wild  beast, 
either  a  bear  or  a  panther,  and  not  the  swift-footed 
deer,  which,  when  it  crossed  their  path,  enticed 
them  for  a  short  time  only  from  their  track,  but 
never  entirely  put  them  on  a  false  scent. 

They  had  now  reached  a  spot,  where  the  object 
of  their  chase  had  evidently  delayed  for  a  while, 
and  must  have  crossed  their  path,  for  they  often 
stopped  for  a  moment,  and  then  springing  with 
wild  yells  back  and  forth,  sought  with  increased 
eagerness  around  some  closely-entwined  plants, 
which  encircled  the  spot,  forming  an  almost  im- 
passable barrier,  but  again  returned  to  its  centre, 
there  to  renew  their  howls  and  lamentations. 

Suddenly  the  bushes  were  pushed  aside,  and  a 
young  man  mounted  upon  a  small,  black  Indian 
pony,  with  a  broad  hunting  knife  in  his  hand,  which 
he  made  use  of  to '  cut  through  the  hanging  vines, 
that  threatened  to  drag  him  from  his  horse,  ap- 
peared among  the  hounds,  which,  at  his  sudden 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  199 

Appearance,  surrounded  him  for  a  moment,  barking 
and  wagging  their  tails,  and  then,  incited  by  the 
presence  of  their  master,  renewed  their  search 
with  increased  eagerness. 

"  Right,  my  good  dogs  I"  cried  the  young  man, 
checking  his  horse,  while  he  thrust  his  knife  into 
its  sheath,  and  placed  the  long  rifle  which  he  car- 
ried upon  his  shoulder,  upon  the  saddle-bow  before 
him,  "  that's  right  1  seek,  seek — you  are  upon  the 


THE  HOUND. 

track,  and  I  think  we  shall  this  time  catch  the  thief 
that  has  stolen  so  many  of  our  young  pigs — he  has 
escaped  us  often  enough." 

"  Hip  !  hip  !"  he  cried,  raising  himself  high  in 
his  stirrups,  and  shouting  his  hunting  cry,  as  he 
saw  that  the  oldest  of  the  dogs  had  suddenly  found 


200  MERRY'S    BOOK  OF 

the  track  again,  and,  followed  by  the  others,  at 
once  disappeared  in  the  thicket — "  hip  !  hip  !"  and 
throwing  his  rifle  again  upon  his  shoulder,  he  grasp- 
ed the  reins  with  his  right  hand,  plunging  his  spurs 
into  his  horse's  flanks,  which  reared  aloft,  and  then 
dashed  wildly  after  the  hounds. 

Nothing  slackened  their  eagerness  ;  neither  the 
fallen  trees,  the  dense  thicket,  marshes,  nor  miry 
channels ;  onward  they  coursed,  and  the  horse, 
snorting  and  foaming,  followed  them  with  his  mas- 
ter, who  uttered  loud,  cheering  huzzas. 

The  hounds  now  paused  anew  ;  this  time,  how- 
ever, it  was  not  uncertainty  concerning  the  direc- 
tion their  enemy  had  taken  that  restrained  their 
pursuit,  for  they  leaped  up,  barking  and  37elling, 
against  a  lofty  oak,  furiously  biting  the  roots  and 
the  rough  bark  of  the  mighty  tree  that  gave  shel- 
ter to  the  foe,  and  protected  him  from  his  pursuers. 

The  hunter  now  appeared  on  the  scene  of  action, 
and  without  waiting  for  his  horse  to  pause  in  his 
career,  sprang  with  a  bound  from  the  saddle,  leav- 
ing the  riderless  beast  to  his  own  will.  He  then 
walked  slowly  about  the  tree,  peering  inquisitively 
through  the  dense  foliage,  and  at  last  saw,  enscon- 
ced between  two  branches,  the  form  of  a  living 
creature,  which,  nestling  closely  to  one  of  them, 
probably  thought  itself  concealed  and  unobserved. 

It  was  indeed  quite  dark  in  the  shadow  of  the 
thick  leaves,  and  a  less  practiced  eye  than  that  of 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  201 

our  young  forester  must  have  long  remained  in 
doubt  as  to  the  name  and  species  of  the  beast  that 
seemed  so  carefully  intent  upon  withdrawing  itselt 
from  the  view  of  the  hunter  below.  Wilson's  keen 
glance,  however,  soon  recognized  in  the  cowering 
form  a  panther's  cub,  that  was  easily  betrayed  by 
its  long  tail,  which  it  was  unable  to  conceal. 

He  had  already  raised  his  rifle,  to  dislodge  the 
animal  from  its  height,  where  it  doubtless  thought 
itself  secure,  while  the  hounds  gazed,  breathless 
and  expectant,  now  at  the  barrel  of  the  rifle,  from 
which  they  every  moment  expected  to  see  flame 
flash  forth,  now  at  the  top  of  the  tree,  in  which 
they  knew  that  their  enemy  was  concealed. 

But  their  low,  imploring  whine,  with  which  they 
thought  to  hasten  their  master's  shot,  was  this  time 
in  vain  ;  the  latter  appeared  suddenly  to  have 
changed  his  mind  ;  he  lowered  his  rifle,  and  again 
began  to  examine  the  tree  with  even  greater  at- 
tention than  before. 

After  a  long  and  careful  investigation,  he  seemed 
at  last  to  have  satisfied  himself  with  regard  to  what 
he  wished  to  know  ;  he  leaned  his  rifle  against  a 
fallen  trunk  that  lay  not  far  from  the  tree,  un- 
buckled his  belt,  in  which  were  thrust  a  knife  and 
a  small  tomahawk,  drew  off  his  hunting  shirt,  and 
then,  holding  his  belt  in  his  hand,  returned  to  the 
oak,  which  the  hounds,  although  they  had  followed 
attentively  every  movement  of  their  master,  had 
not  quitted  for  an  instant. 


202  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 

"  I  will  try  it  I"  he  muttered  at  last  to  himself. 
"  I  will  try  and  take  him  alive  ;  if  I  carry  him  to 
Little  Rock,  I  can,  with  ease,  get  ten  or  fifteen  dol- 
lars for  him  ;  if  I  shoot  him,  his  hide  isn't  worth 
much.  Besides,  the  mother  must  have  fled,  for  I 
can't  see  her  anywhere  in  the  tree,  and  for  ten  dol- 
lars a  man  may  very  well  take  a  scratching  once 
from  such  a  young  chap  ;  so  then,  my  little  pan- 
ther, look  out,  for  I  am  coming  I" 

With  these  words  he  walked  to  his  horse,  which 
was  grazing  quietly,  unwound  a  rope  that  was  fas- 
tened about  his  neck,  buckled  his  belt  about  him 
again,  in  which  he  replaced  his  knife,  leaving  his 
tomahawk  and  rifle  behind  him,  and  began  to  ascend 
the  huge  tree.  This  he  accomplished  in  the  follow- 
ing manner  :  casting  the  rope  high  about  the  body 
of  the  tree,  where  a  knob  prevented  it  from  slip- 
ping, he  seized  it  by  the  two  ends,  and  raised  him- 
self carefully,  now  with  the  right  arm,  now  with 
the  left,  until  he  reached  a  part  of  the  trunk  which 
was  sufficiently  slender  for  him  to  grasp  it  firmly 
in  his  arms.  The  hounds  at  once  comprehended 
their  master's  intention,  and  sprang,  barking  and 
yelping  around  the  roots  of  the  oak. 

Slowly  and  cautiously  the  hunter  climbed  the 
tree  to  a  height  of  about  forty  feet,  before  he  reach- 
ed the  lower  limb,  where  he  could  take  breath  and 
rest  for  a  moment.  When  here,  he  felt  for  his 
knife  to  see  that  it  was  in  its  place,  glancing  up  at 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  203 

the  young  panther,  which  still  lay  nestling  close  to 
the  same  branch  upon  which  he  had  first  observed 
it,  wound  the  rope,  which  he  no  longer  needed  for 
his  ascent,  about  his  shoulders,  and  using  the 
branches  as  the  steps  of  a  natural  ladder,  ascended 
rapidly  and  lightly  towards  the  panther,  which  lay 
without  stirring  indeed,  but  kept  its  gloomy  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  approaching  enemy. 

But  other  and  more  ferocious  glances  observed 
and  watched  the  progress  of  the  hunter,  who  had 
not  the  slightest  presentiment  of  this  new  and  dan- 
gerous neighbor.  It  was  no  other  than  the  cub's 
mother,  which,  crouching  upon  the  limb  of  an  ad- 
jacent tree,  the  branches  of  which  projected  among 
those  of  the  oak,  lay  ready  to  leap,  and  waving  her 
tail  slowly,  seemed  only  to  be  waiting  for  the  hunt- 
er's nearer  approach  to  spring  upon  the  bold  ag- 
gressor, who  ventured  to  attack  her  offspring. 

Wilson  swung  himself  carelessly  from  branch  to 
branch,  and  was  already  close  beneath  the  young 
panther,  which  now  rose  softly,  and  raising  its 
back  after  the  fashion  of  a  cat,  stood  upon  the 
branch,  and  looked  down  at  the  hunter,  as  if  not 
yet  quite  understanding  the  danger  which  his  pre- 
sence betokened. 

Wilson  now  paused,  unwound  the  rope  from  his 
shoulders,  made  a  noose  at  one  end  of  it,  cast  it 
over  the  cub's  head,  and  supporting  himself  upon 
two  other  branches,  was  in  the  act  of  looking  up, 


204  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

to  avail  himself  of  the  proper  moment,  when  he  be- 
held directly  opposite  to  him,  at  a  distance  of 
scarcely  ten  paces,  the  glowing  eyes  of  the  mother, 
who,  at  this  instant,  was  crouching  to  make  a  spring. 

Reared  from  childhood  in  the  forest,  and  familiar 
with  the  dangers  which ^so  often  menace  the  soli- 
tary hunter,  he  retained  in  that  fearful  moment  suf- 
ficient presence  of  mind  to  bring  the  trunk  of  the 
oak  instantly,  and  before  his  enemy  could  divine 
his  intention,  between  him  and  the  beast,  which  he 
succeeded  in  doing  by  a  rapid  movement.  But  it 
was  indeed  high  time,  for  at  that  very  moment,  the 
dark  form  of  the  panther  sprang  to  the  spot  which 
he  had  just  abandoned,  and  her  glowing  eyes  gazed 
into  those  of  the  undaunted  hunter,  who,  with  his 
left  arm  wound  about  a  branch,  and  holding  in  his* 
right  hand  a  drawn  knife,  expected  every  instant 
to  see  the  infuriated  animal  leap  down  upon  him. 

The  panther,  however,  intimidated  by  the  glance 
which  the  hunter  kept  fixed  upon  her,  seemed  sat- 
isfied with  knowing  that  her  cub  was  protected,  arid 
with  carefully  watching  every  movement  of  her  en- 
emy, and  kept  her  present  position,  which  was 
scarcely  six  feet  distant  from  him. 

At  first  Wilson  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  for  al- 
though his  knife  was  a  good,  strong  weapon,  even 
against  the  most  dangerous  animal,  yet  the  place 
where  he  stood,  and  where  the  slightest  misstep 
would  have  hurled  him  lifeless  to  the  ground,  was 


TRAVEL      AND     ADVENTURE;  205 

by  no  means  well  calculated  for  a  combat  with  such 
an  enemy.  No  sooner,  therefore,  did  he  find  that 
his  antagonist  contented  herself  with  watching  him 
merely,  than  he  rapidly,  but  carefully,  and  without 
any  hurried  movement  which  could  have  alarmed 
or  enraged  the  monster,  restored  his  knife  to  its 
sheath,  and  slowly  commenced  to  descend  the  tree. 

The  panther  seeing  that  he  retired  farther  and 
farther  from  her,  followed  him  slowly,  and  more 
than  once  Wilson's  hand  grasped  after  his  weapon, 
when  he  observed  the  beast's  slender  form  couched 
to  spring  :  still,  however,  the  latter  could  not  re- 
solve to  venture  an  open  attack,  eye  to  eye. 

Thus  he  reached  the  lowermost  branch,  again 
wound  the  rope  about  the  trunk,  grasped  its  two 
Ends,  and  slid  carefully,  but  as  rapidly  as  possible 
to  the  ground. 

The  hounds,  in  the  mean  while,  had  observed 
their  enemy  as  it  had  followed  their  master,  and 
driven  to  wild  fury,  at  seeing  the  beast  among  the 
branches  without  being  able  to  reach  her,  they 
leaped  aloft,  and  barked  and  yelled  most  piteously. 

At  last  Wilson  had  gained  firm  ground  again  ; 
his  garments  were  torn,  the  blood  dropped  from 
his  arms,  which  had  been  severely  lacerated  by  the 
rough. bark  of  the  oak,  his  strength  was  exhausted, 
and  his  knees  shook  beneath  him.  Not  an  instant, 
however,  did  he  allow  himself  for  repose  j  he 
sprang  towards  the  spot  where  he  had  left  his  rifle, 


206  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

/ 
grasped  it,  and  raised  it  to  his  cheek,  to  bring  the 

panther  from  the  retreat  which  it  thought  so  secure. 
But  it  was  in  vain  that  he  endeavored  to  hold  the 
heavy  weapon  still  and  motionless  even  for  a  sec- 
ond ;  his  limbs  trembled,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
cast  himself  upon  the  ground  to  obtain  a  moment's 
repose.  But  not  an  eye  did  he  turn  from  the  beast, 
that  now  cowered  closely  to  the  trunk,  near  its  cub, 
which  fearing  no  more  danger,  stood  upon  a  some- 
what projecting  branch,  with  lifted  tail,  and  rubbed 
itself  comfortably  against  its  mother. 

Wilson  soon  recovered  himself,  grasped  his  rifle 
once  more,  took  a  long  and  sure  aim,  and  the  echo 
of  his  weapon  resounded,  thundering,  from  the  dis- 
tant hills. 

The  beast,  pierced  by  the  fatal  bullet,  started 
convulsively,  sprang  aloft,  clambered  in  wild  haste 
from  limb  to  limb,  to  the  top  of  the  tree  ;  the  thin 
branches  yielded  beneath  her  ;  she  had  now  near- 
ly reached  the  summit  of  the  oak  when  the  weak 
foliage  gave  way  ;  she  fell,  yet  in  falling,  her  pow- 
erful claws  still  grasped  at  the  leaves  and  tendrils, 
until  at  last,  with  a  mighty  crash,  amid  the  loud 
howlings  of  the  dogs,  she  dropped  lifeless  at  Wil- 
son's feet. 

No  farther  obstacle  now  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
taking  the  cub  alive,  which  had  anxiously  followed 
its  mother  to  the  lowermost  branches  of  the  tree, 
yet  his  first  experiment  had  too  severely  exhaust- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE 


207 


ed  his  strength,  and  'he  was  unable  again  to  attempt 
the  laborious  task.  He  therefore  reloaded  his  rifle, 
and  a  sure  shot  brought  the  cub  within  the  reach 
of  the  hounds,  which  assailed  it  with  great  fury. 

In  a  few  moments,  the  hides  of  the  two  panthers 
were  stripped  off,  and  placed  upon  the  pony,  and 
followed  by  the  hounds,  the  bold  hunter  rode  to 
new  booty  and  to  new  dangers. 


208 


MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  209 


THE  MAMMOTH  GATE. 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  caves  in  the  world, 
if  not  the  most  remarkable  yet  discovered,  is 
found  in  Kentucky.  From  its  immense  and  yet  un- 
known extent,  it  is  generally  called  "  The  Mam- 
moth Cave."  Its  entrance  is  a  little  south  of  Green 
River,  in  Edmonson  County,  and  some  half  dozen 
miles  east  from  Browneville,  the  capital  of  that 
county.  Being  nearly  midway  between  Louisville 
and  Frankfort  on  the  north,  and  Nashville  on  the 
south,  it  has  become  quite  a  fashionable  resort  from 
those  places,  as  well  as  for  the  multitude  of  trav- 
elers from  all  sections,  who  annually  go  forth  in 
quest  of  wonders.  Ample  accommodation  for  all 
such  is  provided  by  the  forecast  of  Dr.  Crogan,  who 
purchased,  a  few  years  ago,  a  large  tract  of  land  in 
the  vicinity,  and  erected,  near  the  entrance,  an  ex- 
tensive hotel,  which  he  called  "  The  Cave  House." 
The  main  t  building  is  a  spacious  airy  frame,  two 
hundred  feet  long  and  two  stories  high,  substantial- 
ly built  of  logs,  neatly  finished  on  the  outside  with 
clap-boards,  and  made  picturesque  and  comfortable 
by  green  blinds,  porticoes,  verandahs,  etc.  This 
building  is  flanked,  at  either  end,  by  substantial 
wings  of  brick,  which  show  their  gable  ends  in 
front,  making  the  whole  facade  about  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  length. 


210  MERRY'S   BOOK  OF 

The  approach  to  the  cave  as  delineated  in  the 
accompanying  engraving,  is  beautiful  and  romantic, 
though  the  country,  for  some  distance  round,  is  one 
of  those  dry,  unpromising  tracts  of  rolling  knobs 
and  hills,  which  sometimes  occur  in  the  prairie 
country,  on  which  it  seems  that  nothing  can  grow 
but  dwarf  oak?,  or  beeches,  or  such  vines  and  shrubs 
as  can  find  a  precarious  rooting  in  the  hard  baked 
soil.  The  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Cave 
House  is  more  agreeable  and  inviting — sufficiently 
so  to  redeem  in  part  the  general  character  of  the 
section.  Patches  of  thrifty  woodland,  elm,  hickory, 
chestnut,  and  other  species  of  valuable  and  orna- 
mental trees,  in  which  there  are  fine  openings,  and 
romantic  reaches  for  pleasant  walks  and  rides,  with 
sharp  ravines  widening  into  delightful  valleys,  pre- 
sent some  landscapes  of  rare  beauty. 

Cave  Hollow  is  a  deep  valley  bounded  by  walls 
of  lime-rock,  overlaid  with  sandstone.  la  some 
places  the  sides  are  precipitous  and  sharp  ;  in  oth- 
ers, composed  of  loose,  broken  masses  of  rock  piled 
rudely  together,  and  overgrown  with  a  wild  luxuri- 
ance of  clambering  vines,  brambles,  and  flowers  of 
various  hues,  while  the  valley  below  is  thickly  set 
with  maples,  walnuts,  catalpas,  paw-paws,  etc. 

A  circuitous  path  through  this  hollow,  leads  to 
the  entrance  of  the  Cave.  This  is  a  dark,  gloomy- 
looking  opening  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  some  fifteen 
feet  high,  and  perhaps  twenty  feet  broad  at  the  base. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  211 

It  does  not  appear,  in  passing,  as  large  as  this, 
and,  indeed,  might  well  be  passed  by  without  no- 
tice, being  liberally  overhung  with  vines  and  shrub- 
bery. From  this  entrance  there  is  a  descent  of 
thirty  feet,  or  more,  over  somewhat  broken  and  ir- 
regular stone  steps,  to  the  first  floor  or  level,  to 
which  you  enter  through  an  archway  of  loosly  piled 
rocks,  overgrown  with  a  tangled  vegetation,  through 
which  there  is  a  constant  dripping  of  water  from 
above.  The  outward  current  of  cold  air  which 
meets  you  at  the  first  entrance  becomes  here  more 
intensely  cold,  and  much  stronger,  so  that  you  must 
look  well  to  your  torches. 

The  vestibule  of  the  Cave  is  a  hall  of  an  oval 
shape,  two  hundred  feet  in  length  by  one  hundred 
and  fifty  wide,  with  a  roof  as  flat  and  level  as  if  fin- 
ished by  the  trowel,  and  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet  high. 
Two  passages,  each  a  hundred  feet  in  width,  open 
into  it  at  the  opposite  extremities,  but  at  right  an- 
gles to  each  other  •  and  as  they  run  in  a  straight 
course  for  five  or  six  hundred  feet,  with  the  same 
flat  roof  common  to  each,  the  appearance  present- 
ed to  the  eye  is  that  of  a  vast  hall  in  the  shape  of 
the  letter  L.,  expanded  at  the  angle,  both  branches 
being  Jive  hundred  feet  long  by  one  hundred  ivide. 
The  entire  extent  of  this  prodigious  space  is  cover- 
ed by  a  single  rock,  in  which  the  eye  can  detect  no 
break  or  interruption,  save  at  its  borders,  which  are 
surrounded  by  a  broad  sweeping  cornice,  traced  in 


212  MERRY'S   BOOK   OF 

horizontal  panel  work,  exceedingly  noble  and  reg- 
ular. Not  a  single  pier  or  pillar  of  any  kind  contrib- 
utes to  support  it.  It  needs  no  support,  but  is 

'  By  its  own  weight  made  steadfast  and  immovable.' 

Lee  describes  "  The  Temple  "  as  "  an  immense 
vault,  covering  an  erea  of  two  acres,  and  covered 
by  a  single  dome  of  solid  rock,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  high.  It  excels  in  size  the  cave  of  Staffa, 
and  rivals  the  celebrated  vault  in  the  Grotto  ot 
Antiparos,  which  is  said  to  be  the  largest  in  the 
world.  In  passing  through  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  the  dome  appears  to  follow,  like  the  sky  in 
passing  from  place  to  place  on  the  earth.  In  the 
middle  of  the  dome  there  is  a  large  mound  of  rocks, 
rising  on  one  side  nearly  to  the  top,  very  steep,  and 
forming  what  is  called  the  mountain.  When  first  I 
ascended  this  mound  from  the  cave  below,  I  was 
struck  with  a  feeling  of  awe,  more  deep  and  in- 
tense than  anything  I  had  ever  before  experienced. 
I  could  only  observe  the  narrow  circle  which  was 
illuminated  immediately  around  me  ;  above  and  be- 
yond was  apparently  an  unlimited  space,  in  which 
the  ear  could  not  catch  the  slightest  sound,  nor  the 
eye  find  an  object  to  rest  upon.  It  was  filled  with 
silence  and  darkness  ;  and  yet  I  knew  that  I  was 
beneath  the  earth,  and  that  this  space,  however 
large  it  might  be,  was  actually  bounded  by  solid 
walls.  My  curiosity  was  rather  excited  than  grati- 
fied. In  order  that  I  might  see  the  whole  in  one 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  213 

connected  view,  I  built  fires  in  many  places,  with 
the  pieces  of  cane  which  I  found  scattered  among 
the  rocks.  Then  taking  my  stand  on  the  mountain 
a  scene  was  presented  of  surprising  magnificence. 
On  the  opposite  side,  the  strata  of  gray  limestone, 
breaking  up  by  steps  from  the  bottom,  could  scarce- 
ly be  discerned  in  the  distance  by  the  glimmering. 
Above  was  the  lofty  dome,  closed  at  the  top  by  a 
smooth  slab  beautifully  defined  in  the  outline,  from 
which  the  walls  sloped  away  on  the  right  and  left 
into  thick  darkness.  Every  one  has  heard  of  the 
dome  of  the  mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  of  St.  Peter's, 
and  St.  Paul's  ;  they  are  never  spoken  of  but  in 
terms  of  admiration,  as  the  chief  works  of  architec- 
ture, and  among  the  noblest,  and  most  stupendous 
examples  of  what  man  can  do  when  aided  by  science ; 
and  yet,  when  compared  with  the  dome  of  this  tem- 
ple, they  sink  into  comparative  insignificance. 
Such  is  the  surpassing  grandeur  of  nature's  works." 


214  MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 


THE    PUMP. 

IN  France  and  Germany  you  will  find  that  one  of 
the  social  institutions  most  popular  with  the 
masses,  is  the  town  pump  or  fountain,  where,  at 
early  dawn,  and  at  nightfall,  the  assembled  servants 
from  all  the  neighborhood,  with  their  pails  or 
pitchers  in  hand,  hold  their  levee.  You  will  see 
them  standing  in  little  groups  around,  in  earnest 
conversation  with  each  other  ;  their  cheerful  faces 
and  animated  gestures  indicating  that  they  are  in 
no  unhappy  mood.  These  pumps  or  fountains,  as 
the  case  may  be,  are  often  very  elaborate  in  their 
workmanship,  and  really  ornamental  to  the  street 
or  square  where  they  are  located.  The  fountains 
that  abound  in  the  squares  in  Paris,  with  their 
broad  basins  and  elegant  statuary,  are  among  the 
finest  ornaments  of  the  city. 

In  some  of  the  provincial  towns  these  fountains 
have  become  the  more  interesting  from  their  great 
antiquity,  and  from  the  historic  associations  con- 
nected with  them.  Here  you  will  find  an  immense 
stone  basin,  which,  perhaps  ten  centuries  ago,  was, 
as  now,  the  rendezvous  for  water-bearers,  and  there 
the  huge  stone  pump  whose  dog-head  spout  has  for 
ages  supplied  the  limpid  beverage.  If  they  could 
speak  and  tell  what  they  have  heard  and  seen, 
what  changes  have  been  wrought  while  they  have 


TKAYEL     AND      ADVENTURE. 


215 


stood  unchanged  ;  if  they  could  repeat  the  gossip 
and  love-tales  of  other  days,  how  they  would  en- 
chain the  attentive  listeners  I 


'. 


i 


THE     PUMP. 


While  we  admired  these  pumps  and  fountains 
for  their  artistic  interest,  and  some  for  their  anti- 


216 


MERRY'S    BOOK   OF 


quity,  we  were  more  attracted  by  their  social  posi- 
tion. They  every  day  witness  many  a  merry  group 
and  greeting,  while  they  often  hear  gossip  that 
were  better  not  repeated.  They  hear,  too,  the 
thousand  little  narratives,  and  discussions,  and  sal- 
lies of  wit  and  repartee  that  give  the  zest  to  social 
life,  and  make  society  a  blessing.  Long  may  they 
stand  in  their  social  position  to  witness  the  joyous 
greetings  of  a  happy  people. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  217 

A    BANKER    IN    TROUBLE. 


ERE  is  a  story  of  a  rich  foreigner, 
named  Sutherland,  naturalized  in 
Russia,  who  was  banker  to  the  Court,  and  in 
high  favor  with  the  Empress.  He  was  rous- 
ed  one  morning  by  the  information  that  his 
house  was  surrounded  by  guards,  and  that  Reliew, 
the  Minister  of  Police,  desired  to  speak  with  him. 
This  personage  entering  without  further  ceremony, 
at  once  announced  his  errand. 

"  Mr.  Sutherland,"  said  he,  "  I  am  charged  by 
my  gracious  sovereign  with  the  execution  of  a  sen- 
tence, the  severity  of  which  both  astonishes  and 
grieves  me  ;  and  I  am  ignorant  as  to  how  you  can  so 
far  have  excited  the  resentment  of  her  majesty." 

"  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  yourself,"  replied 
the  banker  ;  "  but  what  are  your  orders  ?" 
"  I  have  not  the  courage  to  tell  you." 
"  Have  I  lost  the  confidence  of  the  Empress  ?" 
"  If  that  were  all,  you  would  not  see  me  troubled 
— confidence    may  return — position    may  be    re- 
stored." 


218  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

"Am  I  to  be  sent  back  to  my  own  country? 
or  good  heavens  !"  cried  the  banker  trembling, 
"  does  the  Empress  think  of  banishing  me  to  Si- 
beria ?' 

"  Alas  !  you  might  some  day  return." 

"  Am  I  to  be  knouted  ?" 

"  This  punishment  is  fearful,  but— it  does  not 
K77  /" 

KiVll    S 

"  Is  my  life,  then,  in  peril  ?  I  can  not  believe 
that  the  Empress,  usually  so  mild  and  gentle — who 
spoke  to  me  so  kindly  but  two  days  since — 'tis  im- 
possible ! — for  Heaven's  sake  let  me  know  the 
worst ;  anything  is  better  than  this  intolerable  sus- 
pense." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Reliew,  in  a  melancholy  tone, 
"  my  gracious  mistress  has  ordered  me  to  have  you 
stuffed:1 

"  Stuffed  ?"  cried  the  poor  banker,  horrified. 

"  Yes,  stuffed  with  straw." 

Sutherland  looked  fixedly  at  the  Minister  of  Po- 
lice an  instant,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Sir,  either  you  have  lost  your  reason,  or  the 
Empress  is  not  in  her  right  senses  ;  surely  you  did 
not  receive  such  a  command  without  endeavoring, 
at  least,  to  point  out  its  unreasonableness,  its  bar- 
barity." 

"  Alas,  my  unfortunate  friend,  I  did  that  which, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  I  should  not  have 
dared  to  attempt ;  I  manifested  my  grief,  my  con- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  219 

sternation,  I  even  hazarded  an  humble  remon- 
strance ;  but  her  imperial  majesty,  in  an  irritated 
tone,  bade  me  leave  her  presence,  and  see  her  com- 
mands obeyed  at  once  ;  adding  these  words,  which 
are  still  ringing  in  my  ears  :  '  Go,  and  forget  not 
that  it  is  your  duty  to  acquit  yourself  without  a 
murmur,  of  any  commission  with  which  I  may  deign 
to  trust  you.' J; 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  horror, 
the  despair  of  the  unhappy  banker  ;  after  waiting 
till  the  first  burst  of  grief  was  over,  Reliew  in- 
formed him  that  he  would  be  allowed  a  quarter  ot 
an  hour  to  settle  his  worldly  affairs.  Sutherland 
wept,  and  prayed,  and  entreated  the  minister  to 
take  a  petition  from  him  to  the  Empress.  Over- 
come by  his  supplications  the  magistrate  consented 
to  be  his  messenger,  and  took  charge  of  the  mis- 
sive, but  afraid  to  return  to  the  palace,  he  hastily 
presented  himself  at  the  residence  of  Earl  Bruce, 
the  English  Ambassador,  and  explained  the  affair 
to  him.  The  ambassador,  very  naturally,  supposed 
the  Minister  of  Police  had  become  insane,  but  bid- 
ding him  follow,  he  hurried  to  the  palace.  Intro- 
duced into  the  imperial  presence,  he  told  his  story 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible.  On  hearing  this 
strange  recital,  Catherine  exclaimed — 

"  Merciful  Heaven  !  what  a  dreadful  mistake  ! 
Reliew  must  have  lost  his  wits — run  quickly,  my 
lord  ;  I  beg  and  desire  that  madman  to  relieve  my 


220  MERRY'S  BOOK   OF 

poor  banker  of  his  groundless  fears,  and  to  set  him 
at  liberty  immediately." 

The  Earl  left  the  room  to  do  as  her  majesty  re- 
quested, and  on  his  return  found  Catherine  laugh- 
ing immoderately. 

"  I  see  now,"  said  she,  "  the  cause  of  this  incon- 
ceivably absurd  blunder.  I  had,  for  some  years,  a 
little  dog,  to  which  I  was  much  attached.  I  called 
him  Sutherland,  because  that  was  the  name  of  the 
English  gentleman  who  presented  him  to  me  ;  this 
dog  has  just  died,  and  I  gave  Reliew  orders  to  have 
him  stuffed  ;  as  he  hesitated,  I  became  angry,  sup- 
posing that,  from  a  foolish  excess  of  pride,  he 
thought  this  commission  beneath  his  dignity.  That 
is  the  solution  of  this  ridiculous  enigma." 


TRAYEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  221 


RUINS  OF  ST.  BARTOLPH  AT  COLCHESTER. 

THE  distinguishing  feature  of  the  parish  of  St. 
Bartolph,  in  Colchester,  is  the  ruins  of  its  an- 
cient priory  and  monastic  church.  These  ruins 
have  long  afforded  a  favorite  subject  for  the  painter, 
while  they  have  interested  alike  the  lovers  of  an- 
tiquity and  picturesque  effect.  Of  the  priory  it- 
self very  little  now  remains,  but  in  the  view  which 
we  here  present  of  the  ruins  of  the  church,  you  get 
some  general  idea  of  the  noble  and  magnificent 
structure.  A  considerable  portion  of  the  building 
on  the  rear  has  been  entirely  demolished  to  the 
foundations.  The  length  of  the  building  that  is 
now  standing  is  one  hundred  and  eight  feet,  the 
diameter  of  the  pillars  is  five  and  a  half  feet,  and 
the  thickness  of  the  wall  is  eight  and  a  half  feet. 
It  is  built  apparently  of  Roman  brick,  which  adds 
to  the  interest  of  the  ruin.  The  front,  which  you 
see  standing,  faces  westward,  and  is  ornamented, 
immediately  above  the  principal  entrance,  with  two 
distinct  rows  of  semicircular  arches,  which  form 
pointed  arches  at  their  intersection,  in  the  manner 
supposed  to  have  first  suggested  the  Gothic  arch. 
Above  these  appears  to  have  been  a  circular  win- 
dow, but  how  the  summit  of  this  front  terminated 
must  be  a  matter  of  conjecture,  as  no  record  reveals 
its  form  or  appearance.  But  it  is  known  that  at 


222 


M  ERR  Y7S     BOOK     OP 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  223 

either  angle  of  the  front  there  was  a  stately  tower, 
of  which  "  the  northwest  was  standing,"  says  Mo- 
rant,  "  within  the  memory  of  man." 

The  front  entrance  is  by  a  deeply  receding 
semicircular  arch,  and  is  one  of  the  best  specimens 
extant  of  the  grand  Norman  doorway.  Much  of 
this  entrance  is  hidden  from  the  spectator  by  the 
accumulation  of  earth  about  it  to  a  considerable, 
height,  yet  from  the  representation,  as  it  now  ap- 
pears in  the  cut,  it  is  evident  that  it  was  a  mag- 
nificent affair. 

The  prevalence  of  the  pure  Roman  arch,  unac- 
companied by  Gothic  ornaments,  in  these  remains, 
points  to  a  period  for  the  origin  of  this  structure 
when  the  Normans  had  only  began  to  conceive  of 
the  pointed  order  of  architecture.  If  you  examine 
the  cut  closely,  you  will  observe  that  some  of  the 
arches  are  circular,  and  others  are  pointed  or 
Gothic  ;  for  instance,  the  arches  of  the  windows 
in  the  north  aisle  are  evidently  pointed,  and  from 
that  circumstance  it  is  naturally  inferred  that  that 
portion  of  the  structure  is  of  later  origin. 

The  origin  of  this  monastic  establishment  is  in- 
volved in  seme  obscurity,  but  it  was  founded  about 
the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  At  the  time 
of  the  dissolution  of  monasteries  in  England,  this 
priory,  including  its  lands,  and  buildings,  and  reve- 
nues, was  valued  at  more  than  half  a  million  of  dol- 
lars, and  was  given  by  Henry  VIII.  to  Sir  Thomas 


224  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

Audley,  then  Lord  Chancellor  of  England — it  has 
since  passed  through  various  hands..  The  walls  of 
the  priory  are  entirely  demolished,  and  a  brewery 
is  now  erected  on  the  site.  "We  hope  the  ruin  of 
the  church  will  long  be  spared  from  a  like  fate,  for, 
aside  from  its  picturesque  effect,  it  must  always  be 
viewed  with  interest  by  the  traveler  as  a  connect- 
ing link  between  the  present  and  the  past,  and  as 
such  is  more  eloquent  than  pen  or  tongue.  There 
is  not  a  pillar,  or  arch,  or  stone,  from  the  founda- 
tion to  the  summit,  that  does  not  speak  impressive- 
ly to  the  beholder.  Say  what  we  will,  there  is  a 
wonderful  power  in  architecture  to  move  our  minds 
to  sublime  emotions,  and  when  to  its  other  quali- 
ties it  adds  the  venerable  attractions  of  age  and  de- 
cay, the  emotion  which  we  feel  is  closely  allied  to 
a  spirit  of  devotion. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  225 


MY  HEART'S  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS. 


HUNTING  the  deer  is  the  favorite 
sport  of  the  Highlanders.  Full  of 
the  love  of  adventure,  they  enter  into 
the  chase  with  all  the  enthusiasm 
of  their  mountain  nature,  and  amid 
all  the  perils  and  dangers  to  which 
they  are  liable,  and  in  whatever 
land  their  lot  is  cast,  their  heart  is 


226  TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 

still  for  the  Highlands,  and  they  sing  their  old 
familiar  song,  and  long  to  go  back  to  the  thrilling 
scenes  and  wonderful  adventures  of  their  mountain 
home. 


THE  HIGHLANDER'S    SONG. 

MY  heart's  in  the  Highlands,  my  heart  is  not  here ; 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  a-chasing  the  deer : 
A-chasing  the  wild  deer,  and  following  the  roe, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  wherever  I  go. 
Farewell  to  the  Highlands,  farewell  to  the  North, 
The  birth-place  of  valor,  the  country  of  worth; 
Wherever  I  wander,  wherever  I  rove, 
The  hills  of  the  Highlands  for  ever  I  love. 
Farewell  to  the  mountains  high  covered  with  snow ; 
Farewell  to  the  straths  and  green  valleys  below ; 
'  Farewell  to  the  forests  and  wild-hanging  woods ; 
Farewell  to  the  torrents  and  loud-pouring  floods. 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands,  my  heart  is  not  here, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  a-chasing  the  deer; 
Chasing  the  wild  deer,  and  following  the  roe, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  wherever  I  go. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  227 


THE   PALACE    OF   THE   ESCURIAL. 


IJIRTY  miles  to  the  westward  of 
Madrid,  in   Spain,  and  upon   the 
mountain   side,  in  the  midst  of  bold  and 
striking  scenery,  is  the  famous  palace  of  the 
Escurial — the  largest  and  most  expensive 
X?      palace  in  the  world.     It  was  built  by  Philip 
II.  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, in  fulfillment  of  a  vow  which  he  made  on  the 
occasion  of  the  battle  of  St.  Quentin,  in  1557.      In 
that  battle,  in  which  his  army  fought  against  the 
French,  he  vowed  that  if  he  should  gain  a  victory, 
he  would  build  a  monastery,  a  church,  and  a  palace 
in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

It  so  happened  that  the  battle  of  St.  Quentin  was 
wrori  on  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  and  Philip  deter- 
mined also  to  do  honor  to  that  saint  by  constructing 
the  palace  in  the  form  and  after  the  model  of  a 
gridiron — St.  Bartholomew  having  suffered  martyr- 
dom by  broiling  on  a  gridiron. 

The  fancy  was  congenial  to  the  austere  and 
gloomy  mind  of  Philip,  who  seems  to  have  delight- 


MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 

ed  in  thoughts  and  deeds  of  cruelty.  We  can  read- 
ily conceive  how  a  man  like  Philip,  who  poisoned 
his  own  son,  Don  Carlos,  for  defending  the  rights 
of  the  people,  and  who  divorced  his  queen  without 
reason,  could  have  special  sympathy  with  thoughts 
and  images  of  cruelty,  and  could  find  pleasure  in 
surrounding  himself  with  the  memorials  of  torture. 
Accordingly  he  not  only  built  his  palace,  which 
was  intended  to  be  a  master-piece  of  regal  splen- 
dor, in  form  of  a  gridiron,  but  he  simulated  that 
instrument  on  all  its  doors  and  windows,  and  on  the 
altar-pieces  and  interior  ornaments. 

Philip  lived  at  a  time  when  Spain  possessed  im- 
mense wealth.  She  controlled  all  the  East  India 
trade,  received  immense  treasures  of  gold  from  South 
America,  and  was  in  a  position  to  wield  immense 
power  among  the  nations.  Nor  was  Philip  destitute 
of  talent  and  force  of  character  and  executive  power, 
but  he  lacked  those  moral  virtues  so  needful  in  a 
sovereign  ;  so  that  his  power  declined,  and  when 
he  died,  there  were  few  to  deplore  his  loss  or  de- 
fend his  memory. 

The  palace  which  he  built  upon  the  mountain 
side  stands — a  monument  of  his  immense  magnifi- 
cence, his  strange  taste,  and  his  gloomy  character. 
It  is  a  quadrangular  building,  740  feet  in  length,  by 
580  feet  in  breadth,  and  is  said  to  have  cost  fifty 
millions  of  dollars.  Its  principal  front  is  towards 
the  west,  and  the  opposite  side,  which  faces  to- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  229 

wards  Madrid,  has  the  form  of  the  shortened  han- 
dle of  a  gridiron  ;  while  the  legs  of  the  gridiron 
are  represented  by  the  towers  which  you  see  pro- 
jecting from  the  angles  of  the  building. 

The  exterior  of  the  Escurial  is  not  magnificent  in 
architecture.  It  has  rather  the  austere  simplicity 
of  a  convent  than  the  elegance  of  a  palace.  It  is 
built  of  hewn  stone  of  a  species  of  granite,  which 
by  time  is  changed  to  a  dark  brown  color,  giving 
the  structure  a  very  sombre  appearance.  Within 
there  is  more  elegance,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
most  lavish  expenditure  in  all  the  arrangements 
and  ornaments.  It  has  80  staircases,  73  fountains, 
1860  rooms,  8  organs,  and  12,000  windows  and 
doors. 

It  contains  a  large  collection  of  pictures,  some  of 
which  are  by  the  best  masters,  and  are  very  rich 
and  valuable.  Here  are  several  fine  paintings  by 
Guido,  Pellegrino,  Navarette,  Paul  Veronese,  Ru- 
bens, Titian,  and  Raphael.  In  the  Escurial  there 
is  also  a  large  and  valuable  library,  founded  by 
Philip  II.,  and  very  much  increased  by  his  son.  It 
is  particularly  valuable  for  its  large  collection  of 
Greek  and  Arabic  manuscripts. 

You  see  the  hills  towering  in  the  rear  of  the  pa- 
lace, and  transcending  it  in  their  grandeur. 


230  MERRY'S    BOOK    OP 


TOMB  OF  EDWARD  II. 

THE  annexed  beautiful  monument  to  the  memory 
of  Edward  II.  is  erected  in  the  Cathedral  at 
Gloucester.  Beneath  the  splended  Gothic  canopy 
he  is  represented  as  reposing  in  state. 

Edward  II.,  born  in  1284,  was  the  first  English 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  succeeded  to  the  throne  of 
England  in  1307.  He  had  an  agreeable  figure  and 
mild  disposition,  but  was  indolent  and  fond  of 
pleasure.  Previous  to  his  coming  to  the  throne 
and  afterwards,  England  was  engaged  in  wars  with 
Scotland.  In  1314  Edward  assembled  an  immense 
army  to  check  the  progress  of  Robert  Bruce,  but 
was  completely  defeated  at  Bannockburn. 

He  was  unfortunate  in  the  selection  of  favorites, 
and  in  every  way  proved  himself  incompetent  to 
his  place.  His  queen,  Isabella,  was  disloyal  to  the 
crown  and  untrue  to  her  husband.  Her  paramour 
was  Roger  Mortimer,  a  young  baron  of  Wales,  who, 
in  consort  with  the  queen,  determined  upon  the 
destruction  of  the  weak  and  unhappy  husband. 
They  formed  an  association  out  of  the  discontented 
party,  and  conspired  to  seize  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment. They  took  possession  of  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don and  other  strong  fortresses,  executed  without 
trial  some  of  the  councillors  of  state,  and  took  the 
King  prisoner,  who  on  the  commencement  of  the 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


231 


revolt  had  concealed  himself  in  Wales.  The  un- 
fortunate Edward  was  confined  in  Kenilworth  Cas- 
tle, and  in  the  January  following  (1327)  his  deposi- 


232  MERRY'S    BOOK    OF 

tion  was  unanimously  agreed  on  by  parliament,  on 
the  ground  of  incapacity  and  misgovernment. 

He  soon  after  resigned  the  crown,  and  was  trans- 
ferred to  Berkley  Castle  ;  but  Mortimer  and  the 
queen,  not  satisfied  while  he  lived,  pursued  him  to 
death.  Two  ruffians  were  despatched,  who,  it  is 
said,  murdered  him  in  a  way  so  as  not  to  leave  any 
external  marks  of  violence.  This  occurred  in  Sept., 
1327,  in  the  twentieth  year  of  his  reign,  and  the 
forty-third  of  his  age. 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE. 


233 


CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY,  HULL. 


THIS  beautiful  church  was  commenced  in  1312, 
under  the  reign  of  Edward  II.  It  is  built  after 
the  cathedral  fashion,  and  is  the  largest  parochial 
edifice  in  England.  It  is  279  feet  long  ;  the  breadth 
of  the  nave  is  172  feet  ;  the  length  of  the  chancel 
100  feet. 

The  interior  architecture  of  the  church  is  in  the 
first  style  of  Gothic  grandeur,  and  in  its  original 


234  MERKY'S  BOOK    OF 

state  must  have  been  pre-eminently  beautiful.  In 
the  centre  of  the  nave  are  three  separate  pulpits, 
of  different  size,  but  all  similar  in  form  and  orna- 
ment ;  they  are  octagonal,  and  covered  with  rich 
panelling,  and  stand  on  four  columns  conjoined. 
They  each  have  separate  steps,  and  o.ver  the  largest, 
which  is  more  elaborately  sculptured  than  the 
others,  is  a  sounding  board  suspended  from  the 
roof  by  a  chain.  The  interior  of  the  chancel  is 
very  light  and  elegant.  All  the  ceilings,  and  mould- 
ings, and  screens,  of  the  interior  of  the  church,  are 
in  heavy  oak  work,  most  elaborately  carved,  and 
representing  various  scripture  subjects.  At  the 
east  end  is  a  beautiful  window  in  most  complicated 
and  unusual  style  of  architecture.  A  part  of  it  is 
occupied  by  a  painting  of  the  Last  Supper  by  Par- 
mentier. 

It  is  said  that  in  the  time  of  the  rebellion,  the 
ppssage  to  the  main  church  was  walled  up  with 
brick,  but  that  the  chancel  was  left  open,  and  turn- 
ed into  a  conventicle — or  place  for  independent 
worship — and  that  here  the  Independents  were  ac- 
customed to  assemble  and  hold  their  meetings. 

in  the  interior  of  the  church  there  are  many 
beautiful  monuments,  and  other  objects  of  artistic 
interest  and  value,  among  which  may  be  mention- 
ed a  basso-relievo  of  Moses,  and  the  brazen  serpent 
on  the  cross,  done  in  marble.  The  baptismal  font 
is  also  very  elaborate  and  beautiful.  It  stands  on 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE.  235 

eight  columns,  of  four  cylinders  each,  and  is  carved 
out  of  stone  in  a  most  beautiful  manner. 

We  will  not  attempt  a  description  of  the  exterior 
building.  The  engraving  will  give  you  a  general 
idea  of  it.  There  it  stands — a  massive  and  grand 
old  pile,  and  there  it  has  stood  for  more  than  five 
hundred  years  ;  its  substantial  buttresses,  its  gray 
old  walls,  its  beautiful  arches  and  chiselled  cornices, 
speak  to  every  successive  generation  of  men,  and 
tell  them  of  the  olden  time. 

It  can  never  cease  to  be  a  matter  of  regret  that 
the  zeal  of  the  Reformers,  which  dealt  such  blows 
against  a  corrupted  church,  should  not  have  been 
satisfied  without  demolishing  many  of  those  grand 
old  architectural  piles  in  England  and  Scotland, 
which,  if  now  standing  entire,  would  be  i  pride 
and  an  ornament  to  the  nation. 


236  MERRY'S   BOOK   OP 


THE  SERPENT  OF  RHODES. 


N  these  days  of  snake-wonders  and 
adventures,  it  may  be  interesting  if 
we  give  the  story  of  the  Serpent  ot 
Rhodes.  It  dates  back  some  five  hundred 
years,  and  some  allowance  must  of  course 
be  made  for  exaggeration.  Yet  his  snakeship  must 
have  been  truly  a  hideous  monster,  to  defy  so  long 
the  assaults  of  courageous  knights,  and  carry  terror 
and  dismay  through  all  the  islands.  We  wonder 
that,  in  those  days  of  credulity,  they  did  not  at- 
tempt to  charm  him  with  their  incantations,  and 
thus  deprive  him  of  his  power.  If  there  had  been 
a  modern  Yankee  there,  he  would  have  been  after 
him  with  a  bottle  of  chloroform,  and  put  him  to 
sleep  instanter,  and  then,  instead  of  tearing  him  to 
pieces  with  dogs,  he  would  have  caged  him  and 
showed  him  about  the  country  on  a  speculation, 
like  Barnum. 

Here  is  the  story  : — 

In  the  fourteenth  century  an  amphibious  animal, 
a  sort  of  serpent  or  crocodile,  caused  much  disor- 
der in  the  island  of  Rhodes  by  its  depredations, 


TRAVEL     AND      ADVENTURE.  237 

and  several  inhabitants  fell  victims  to  its  rapacity. 
The  retreat  of  this  animal  was  in  a  cavern,  situa- 
ted near  a  swamp,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  St.  Etienne, 
two  miles  from  Rhodes.  It  often  came  out  to  seek 
its  prey,  and  devoured  sheep,  cows,  horses,  and 
even  the  shepherds  who  watched  over  their  flocks. 

Many  of  the  knights  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem 
had  tried  to  destroy  this  monster  ;  but  after  going 
out  to  attack  it,  they  never  returned.  This  in- 
duced Phelion  de  Villeneuve,  the  grand  master  of 
Malta,  to  forbid  all  knights,  on  pain  of  being  de- 
prived of  their  habit,  from  attacking  it,  or  attempt- 
ing any  further  an  enterprise,  which  appeared  to 
be  above  human  powers. 

All  the  knights  obeyed  the  mandate  of  the  grand 
master,  except  Dien  Donne  Gozen,  who  notwith- 
standing the  prohibition,  and  without  being  deter- 
red by  the  fate  of  his  brethren,  secretly  formed  the 
daring  design  of  fighting  this  savage  beast ;  brave- 
ly resolving  to  deliver  the  island  from  such  a 
calamity,  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  Having  learn- 
ed that  the  serpent  had  no  scales  on  its  belly,  he 
formed  his  enterprise  on  this  information.  From 
the  description  he  had  received  of  this  enormous 
animal,  he  made  a  paste-board  figure  resembling 
it,  and  endeavored  to  imitate  its  terrific  cries.  He 
then  trained  two  mastiffs  to  run  to  its  cries,  and 
to  attach  themselves  immediately  to  the  belly  of 
the  monster  ;  while  he,  mounted  on  horseback,  his 


238  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

lance  in  hand,  and  covered  with  his  armor,  feigned 
to  give  it  blows  in  several  places.  The  knight 
employed  himself  many  months,  every  day,  in  this 
exercise,  at  the  Chateau  de  Gozen,  in  Languedoc, 
to  which  he  had  repaired  ;  and  when  he  had  train- 
ed the  mastiffs  sufficiently  he  hastened  back  to 
Rhodes. 

Having  repaired  to  church,  and  commended  him- 
self to  God,  he  put  on  his  armor,  bid  farewell 
to  his  wife  and  child,  mounted  his  horse,  and  order- 
ed his  two  servants  to  return  directly  to  France, 
if  he  perished  in  the  combat,  but  to  come  near  him, 
if  they  perceived  that  he  had  killed  the  serpent,  or 
been  wounded  by  it.  He  then  descended  from  the 
mountain  of  St.  Etienne,  and,  'approaching  the 
haunt  of  the  serpent,  soon  encountered  it.  Gozen 
struck  it  with  his  lance,  but  the  scales  prevented 
its  taking  effect. 

He  then  prepared  to  redouble  his  blows,  but  his 
horse,  frightened  by  the  hisses  of  the  serpent,  re- 
fused to  advance,  and  threw  himself  on  his  side. 
Gozen  dismounted,  and  accompanied  by  his  mas- 
tiffs, marched,  sword  in  hand,  towards  this  horrible 
beast.  He  struck  him  in  various  places,  but  the 
scales  prevented  him  from  penetrating  them.  The 
furious  animal,  by  a  blow  of  his  tail,  knocked  down 
the  knight,  and  would  certainly  have  devoured  him 
had  not  his  two  dogs  fastened  on  the  belly  of  the 
serpent,  which  they  lacerated  in  a  dreadful  man- 


TRAVEL     AND     ADVENTURE 


239 


n 


THE  KNIGHT   BIDDING  FAREWELL. 


240  MERRY'S   BOOK    OP 

ner.  The  knight,  favored  by  this  help,  rejoined 
his  two  mastiffs,  and  buried  his  sword  in  the  body 
of  the  monster,  which  being  mortally  wounded, 
rushed  on  the  knight,  and  would  have  crushed  him 
to  death  by  his  weight,  had  not  his  servants,  who 
witnessed  the  combat,  come  to  his  relief.  The 
serpent  was  dead,  and  the  knight  had  fainted. 
When  he  recovered,  the  first  object  which  was  pre- 
sented to  his  view  was  the  dead  body  of  the  ser- 
pent. 

The  death  of  the  serpent  was  no  sooner  known 
in  the  city,  than  a  crowd  of  the  inhabitants  came 
out  to  welcome  their  deliverer.  The  knights  con- 
ducted him  in  triumph  to  the  grand  master,  who, 
however,  considered  it  a  breach  of  discipline,  un- 
pardonable even  on  such  an  occasion  ;  and  regard- 
less of  the  entreaties  of  the  other  knights  and  the 
important  service  that  Gozen  had  rendered,  sent 
him  to  prison.  A  council  was  assembled,  who  de- 
cided that  he  should  be  deprived  of  the  habit  of 
his  order  for  his  disobedience.  This  was  done  ; 
but  Yilleneuve,  repenting  of  his  severity,  soon  re- 
stored to  him,  and  loaded  him  with  favors. 


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